


Yellow Diamonds (REWRITING)

by soundlessAria



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akakuro - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Angst, But there'll be fluff in the end, Character Death/s, Crime AU, Don't expect fluffly love confessions like my other works, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, I'm such a heartless author, Implied Relationships, Kuroko will suffer first, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mystery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Suicide Attempt, Suspense, This is a dark fic, Triggers, midotaka - Freeform, other ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 19:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 48,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6673480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundlessAria/pseuds/soundlessAria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was another bustling night in Tokyo's "Sleepless Town." Kuroko Tetsuya gets by with his life by working on a nightclub in Kabukichō. At first, the sex-oriented business was against his will, until he became numb and got used to the dismal way of living. That is, until he met the undercover detective: Akashi Seijuurou. What will they find in such a hopeless place? <strong>[Rewriting because I lost all the files from my old laptop. T_T]</strong></p><p><strong>04/21/2017:</strong> Prologue, Chapters 1, 2, 3<br/><strong>05/26/2017:</strong> Chapter 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue ✔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rewritten version:** 04/21/2017 (Apparently, it's already April 21 here. ^^)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, unbetaed :3

_The darkness is fearsome… but it will always be a part of us – just like a shadow, a guarded silhouette, a concealed piece of our own humanity. Inevitably so, a day will come when what's supposed to be left hidden in the depths of one’s soul will be laid bare… and the forgotten shadow will overcome the light._

.

.

.

Left.

The man hastily turned, reaching the dark, cold shelter of an abandoned alley. It was murky and gloomy, despite the cacophony of conversations humming out of tune on the main street.

The city at night, as usual, was basked in colorful lights, overpowering the beauty of the stellar heavens. The stars regrettably were swallowed whole by the bright, flashing lights.

The man looked over his shoulder, his eyes cautious and desperate. For a split second, he wondered how two completely opposite worlds could be connected in the very same place. It was as if he had entered an entirely different dimension illusorily linked by a non-existent door.

The night was like an incomplete paradox, painted with inharmonious hues creating still a whole picture.

Breathing raggedly, the man rushed further into the alley. He didn’t care if he were about to run out of air, nor if his legs were about to give in. He continued running, his eyes desperately batting on all sides. He knew he was hopefully searching for something hopeless.

An escape route.

Alas, he reached the end of the alley. Unfortunately, what he thought would give him freedom had instead served as his cage – the cage of a mouse trapped on all sides with no other means of escape. Death wasn't an option, either. It wasn’t his option. After all he had been through, he still had a lot to do. He still had lots of works left unfinished. He still had a lot to reveal to this godforsaken world…

Finally, he reached the barred end of the dark alleyway. He clasped the wire fence in a futile attempt to climb to the other side. Maybe if he could, he would be away from the demon’s reach, the man thought. The boundary was about 3 to 4 meters in height, but the fact didn't matter to him at the moment. He only had one thing in mind and that was to run away from those dreadful eyes.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

His mind played the sound of a ticking clock – or more accurately, a bomb that had been armed – to match his palpitating heartbeat. Both were in synchrony, a horrifying melody of panic and demise. He cursed in alarm, his palms turning cold as if they were readying him for his eventual fate.

Slowly, the sound of footsteps reverberated on the quiet street. And, as each second passed in dire, the paralyzing sound became clearer, more audible, even more frightening.

From a distance, another figure appeared from the surface of the bricked wall, like a creature that glided across the depths of darkness. Red and gold eerily glowed within the shadows, slowly approaching, the footsteps then becoming louder.

Soon, the figure was revealed. His body was divided by the darkness of the backstreet and the waning light of the moon. Crimson strands outlined the other man's face, but his youthful appearance was still recognizable. His posture was dignified, except for the slightly creased condition of his clothes. Still, his gait remained perfect, his posture without fault. Slowly, his lips curved upward as his eyes pinned down his prey.

"N-No…" The cornered tiger pleaded, his feet planted on the ground. He was clenching the tall fence in front of him, his face paling as he felt the presence behind him. He wanted to escape, to move, but his own body failed to take his command.

An amused chuckle resounded as the moon decided to hide itself behind the blanket of clouds. The crimson-haired man let out a long, contemplative sigh which was everything but truthful. A side of his face was concealed beneath the shadows of the tall bricked structure to his left, revealing only half of his countenance for identification. His left iris, which was a luscious gold, glinted in the shadows as he stared at the pitiful person in front of him.

He tut-tutted as he reached for the inside of his coat. “We can’t have you pleading like that, after what you’d done to him,” he said with a disappointed sigh.

There was a single click.

His prey faced him. "Please–"

He had the other right where he wanted him.

He aimed.

And then…

.

.

.

_Bang!_

The sound of metal clanging across the pavement came, followed by a loud thud which woke the nocturnal creatures from their peaceful slumber. Dark shadows flew away.

The crimson-haired man stared in boredom at the retreating creatures. He returned his gun to the holster concealed in his coat without batting an eye.

From a distance, the other man’s body laid motionlessly on the cold, concrete ground. The moon, once more, peeked upon the ominous clouds. White luminance shone upon the slumped body on the ground. A pool of rich, viscous red crept its way out from the bullet hole at the man’s chest. The crimson liquid slowly tainted the man's ivory dress shirt, creeping down his right shoulder to the strands of his dark-red hair. But because of the similarity in color, one might not notice the liquid of life which was slowly taking his life away.

The crimson-haired man strode forward, looking down on the unmoving body under his gaze. "Your greatest mistake was involving him," he spat with a glare.

He turned and walked away from the scene, now watching the sight before him with gentle eyes, as if he were just taking a night stroll. He stopped right before he reached the line connecting the darkness and the light. He fetched a cloth from his pocket and wiped the invisible stain on his hands. The pastel blue fabric was simply embroidered with a black writing. Written beautifully in elegant, cursive characters are: **_K.T._**

The crimson-haired man brought the handkerchief to his lips. He closed his eyes, inhaling once the lingering sweet scent on the cloth. He didn't mind the smell of gunpowder from his hand. It didn't even smell like that at all. It smelled like _that person_. It smelled like vanilla. He folded the handkerchief and slipped it back to his breast pocket. He stepped out to the light. He smiled. He couldn’t wait to see his beloved again.

Soon, he was a speck among the busy streets.

Once again, the forgotten alley was invaded by the loud discordance of the red-light district and the night carried on its usual song of tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So, it's my dream to write a dark-themed AkaKuro fic, and now I'm fulfilling it. English isn't my first language, so the words I use on my fics are kinda repetitive. Though, I'm trying my best to improve them. orz
> 
> This is the one-shot I mentioned in **Full Stop!** I decided not to make this a one-shot anymore, so…
> 
> The chapters for this fic will be much shorter than the ones in **Missing Pieces**. My reason being: so that I can update it regularly.
> 
> So, what do you guys think?


	2. Chapter 1 ✔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rewritten version:** 04/21/2017 (I didn't change the A/N's. Should I? XD)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, unbetaed :3

It was another bustling night in _Kabukichō_. The busy district in _Shinjuku_ had lived up to its title as Tokyo's "Sleepless Town."

The moon waxed and waned along with the blinking lights of every operating establishment. Moneys were exchanged and gossips were traded. People shed their skin, giving birth to a new persona – a different individual far from who they were with the sun watching them.

Lots of sex-oriented businesses operated from left to right. Brothels, nightclubs, love hotels, and host and hostess clubs supplied the night with life. They were considered an illegal trade, but the illuminated streets and the hard-pressed character of the district brought about solace and euphoria; it created a delusive sense of lawfulness.

Structures stood in varied heights. The spot apparently was a perfect hutch for both pleasant and doleful happenings. The neon signage were dazzling, obscuring over the darkness rooted within the place. Alleys were left unlit and quiet, shying away from the occupied main street. And people were cheerfully traversing the roads, concealing the despondency living within their troubled hearts.

The Sleepless Town was a place to remember, a place to forget; it was a place full of paradoxes.

Within the deepest part of the district was a nightclub of sorts. It might appear to be a normal entertainment bar at first glance, but countless shady businesses and transactions had taken place inside this florid establishment.

The exterior was finished in the darkest shade of black painted in the wall’s flowing wave patterns. Half of the front’s two sides were illuminated with purple light against the white hexagonal carvings pressed against the wall. In the middle was the entryway, canopied by a massive black roof. Above it was the establishment’s name in large letter blocks in black with purple lights radiating underneath them: **神業** ( _Kamiwaza_ )

It was one of the most popular to-go clubs in _Kabukichō_. Contrary to its name which meant "Divine Work," this place was considered as one of the most blighted places in the area.

How it got its title had always been a muted secret. Only a handful of tight-lipped members knew of the undertakings happening inside the bar. Prostitution, drug trade, gun smuggling, and unauthorized auctioning were only a few to name. Behind the heavenly façade of this building was a tenebrous sanctuary.

 _Sanctuary_ because the place was considered as the refuge of the homeless, a shelter for the lost – for the one who had lost his will to live, for the one who had lost a part of his soul, for the one who had lost a piece of his heart.

However, it was also a haven for those who had a remainder to share – who had a part of their life to give, who had a piece of their soul to offer, who had a complete heart to accord

Somewhere, on the backdoor of a club a few blocks from _Kamiwaza_ , a form swayed its way out of the backstreet, the door behind the figure left open.

"H-Haah… Hah… Hhha…" came the person's shallow breathing. The sound was soon swallowed by the noisy crowd on the main street.

The person was showered with spectrum of lights as he teetered like a drunken person, occasionally laughing breathlessly. He was leaning against the walls he passed to support himself as he struggled to retain his footing. The bright hues revealed a man with a hair color resembling that of a chestnut's, its lower bands a shade of dark brown, highlighting his orient features. Oddly, the man's vision didn't seem to be focused on anything at all. His brown orbs were hazed as he stared ahead into nothingness. He continued walking with no specific direction in mind.

A single step.

Two.

Three.

It didn’t take him a few meters before he fell down to his knees. He weakly scooted to a sitting position. He chuckled as he felt his back scrape against the wall. A silent whimper escaped his quivering lips as the rough surface burned his skin.

 _It felt good_ , he thought.

His mind swirled. Lights danced before his eyes, beautiful and hypnotizing. He wanted to do it again, to feel the pleasure, the hurt, the pull in his chest, but his body wouldn't move despite him willing it to. He head fell forward, his chin pressed to his chest. He was still laughing, but he had no idea why.

 _It felt good_ , his mind seemed to think.

His breathing became shallower and soon he was desperately gasping for air. Finally a bit of strength returned to him. He moved his right hand, extending it to no one in particular. No oxygen was reaching his lungs now. It felt as if they were being pierced by a thousand of needles. He was sweating, cold and profuse. He felt his fingers become stiff as the fatal seconds passed.

Still, it felt good. He wanted the feeling to stay. He knew it was odd, since his senses appeared to be dulling in a rapid pace. He winced, vaguely registering his consciousness as it slowly shut down. Black dots began to dance in front of his eyes. He was getting delirious, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

A blurry figure materialized in front of him. It took every effort in him to raise his head. He narrowed his eyes. What he saw before him was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever laid upon. It was an angel donned in pure white kneeling in front of him, silently watching the strange situation he was in. The angel’s pure white feathers gave off a heavenly glow – they were fading in and out, in and out, in and out – but what caught his failing sight was the angel’s unkempt sky blue tousle. The angel smiled at him, and he felt a pair of hands cup his own.

The angel’s hands were warm, and it was as if the warmth was being transferred to him. He felt so tired. All he wanted to do now was sleep. He didn’t fight the feeling. He let his eyes flutter close. He wasn’t sure if it was caused by his hallucinating mind, but he saw a pretty jewel cascade from the corner of the angel’s eye. The angel’s eyes were also a beautiful shade of light blue. He felt as if he were drowning as he watched them pool in transparent liquid. He hoped to drown in them if it was the last thing he could do. His lips curved into a smile at the bizarre thought.

“I… love…” he began to say, but in the blink of an eye everything was lost. He couldn’t remember what he was about to say, nor who he was talking to.

Then, his senses went numb, and… he felt no more.

.

.

.

The red-light district.

It was a place for the selfish; it was a place for the selfless.

It was a place for the one who was missing; it was a place for the one who was searching.

And, most of all, it was a place of sweet, jocund, endings… and of bitter, mournful, beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a tease~ Hahahaha XD Can you guess who "the man" is?
> 
> Chapter 1 is the setting introduction. The next chapters will be longer than this one, I promise! And the characters will show up in chapter 2… but not all. :3
> 
> Update will come in a few days. See ya!


	3. Chapter 2 ✔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rewritten version:** 04/21/2017 (The flow of the story might change as I rewrite this but it’s still the same plot. I would love to hear your thoughts! ^^)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, unbetaed :3

The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department was the enormous force behind the long-lasting peace and order in the entire Tokyo metropolis. It had a staff of more than 43,000 police officers and about 3,000 civilian personnel fairly distributed on the 102 stations within the prefecture. The Metropolitan Police was excluded from the regional jurisdiction and was autonomous than the other local forces.

The department’s headquarters stood 18-storeys tall above ground, and was located in the _Kasumigaseki_ part of central Tokyo. The large wedge-shaped building included a cylindrical tower, which also served as a well-known landmark. It can be easily sighted from the streets.

The MPD was an apolitical body free of control. Or so, that was how it was supposed to be.

 _Yeah, that's how it’s supposed to be!_ A navy-blue-haired officer arraigned. He stomped his way back to his desk, sporting a visible scowl on his rugged facial features. His tan skin fitted ideally with the broadness of his back and the thickness of his muscles. One look and one would surely guess that he was working with the authorities (or maybe as a renowned athlete).

Aomine Daiki fixed his cap in an attempt to look presentable, but he was everything but that. He might be sporting the on the job look, but the aura he had been giving off didn’t speak approachable.

 _I can’t believe that asshole’s treating me like a slave at his beck and call! He’s been here for only a month and he thinks he’s superior already!_ He griped in disbelief as he swept and pretended to organize the scattered files on his table.

"Aomine."

Aomine tried to hide away his flinch (He didn’t!) as a voice suddenly called out from behind him. It was smooth and cold and fuck – He hated the voice from the bottom of his heart. He hated more the owner of the voice.

 _What now, you fuckface?_ He hoped he could say. He clicked his tongue as he turned to face the owner of the voice. He didn’t even bother to hide his displeasure. After all, what was the point? "What's it, Akashi?" _You motherfucking slave-driver._

If Akashi was equally annoyed at conversing with Aomine, his face didn’t show. Or maybe he just didn’t care at all. Aomine decided it was the latter.

Akashi handed out a brown envelope to Aomine, his face inscrutably dour.

He had the nerve to look all fucking austere and pristine, Aomine thought. Akashi was the very definition of a perfect police officer. Heck, Akashi was the very definition of a perfect human being. Aomine hated how he just thought of that. Maybe Akashi wasn’t human because nobody would be that perfect and still be alive? Yes, that was probably it, Aomine thought.

"I need more data regarding this incident," Akashi coolly said, his voice commanding, as if he wasn't talking to his senior. Well, experience-wise, Aomine was Akashi’s senior, but achievement-wise it was vice versa. Aomine gritted his teeth in a futile attempt of defiance.

Aomine reluctantly nodded and received the envelope. Well, fuck his luck. As if he even had the right to refuse. Akashi was _actually_ his senior. _Where's my freedom of speech in this!?_

Akashi briefly scrutinized Aomine’s reaction. He looked as if he had something to say, but instead he just sighed. "I need them by 3:30 this afternoon," Akashi said, then he returned back to his own desk without any other clarifications.

Aomine bored his gaze to Akashi’s back. His mind was reeling in alarm for reasons he couldn’t fathom. When he glanced at the digital wall clock of their division's office, the warning sign had been confirmed.

The clock read: 13:42.

Aomine’s mouth flopped open and close like a fish out of water. He wanted to voice out his complaint, but… on the other hand, no thanks. He didn't want to be transferred to hell yet, via Akashi Seijuurou's fury.

Aomine loved his life. Aomine loved his work, no matter how tiring it was. Aomine still loved Mai-chan's boobs– Okay, that last information was unnecessary.

He settled back to his chair. He still believed he was obviously the top dog between him and Akashi. It was as clear as daylight, so how come the red-haired rookie was being treated like a superior even by the _real_ senior officers? He scowled at Akashi’s direction.

Akashi appeared to have sensed this. He sent a quiet look to the tanned officer.

Aomine averted his gaze and posted it back to his computer. _Does he have a fucking glare-dar or something!?_ He clucked and stretched his back, then he scurried to open the envelope Akashi gave him. He took out the files.

The envelope contained a single paper report about an incident, and attached to it were 2 profiles – one, about a certain club in Shinjuku, the other, about the club's owner.

The files immediately piqued Aomine's interest. _Oh._ _This is…_ A smile flickered across his lips. He shook his head.

The demon knew everything. Aomine wasn’t surprised about this. He had the inkling that Akashi was involved in the same business he was in. Akashi, kind of, gave off that vibe.

Aomine had this weird talent to sniff out his own kind. But to think that Akashi would approach him this soon. With a chortle, he began his work. _How troublesome_ , he thought. He began typing on the keyboard, searching for past police records and other data which may be of significance to the case report. He took a sip from the mug of dark coffee he had brought back from the pantry earlier. His conceited expression instantly contorted to that of disgust as the bitter taste went past his tongue.

_Curses. This is going to be a long day._

It’d be a long day indeed.

* * *

Akashi Seijuurou was considered to be the elite of elites among the force. Not to mention, he also graduated from the top of his class during his training years. However, to Akashi, it was only the most common thing to do. After all, an Akashi must, at all times, stand at the top. No questions.

Akashi glanced at the navy-blue-haired cop who had his eyebrows scrunched to the computer monitor. Aomine looked like he was having a hard time reading what was written on the computer screen, but Akashi knew better of the other's 20/20 vision. He had… Well, he had taken the initiative to investigate Aomine. They might have a few _similarities_ , but he wasn’t sure where Aomine’s loyalties lied. Though, as far as he knew (or had dug), Aomine might be someone Akashi could trust. But not fully.

Akashi shook his head with a sigh. He had been staring at the empty page of his journal for quite some time now. He picked up his pen and let it glide across the smooth surface of the paper. In clean, single-stroked characters, he wrote one the characters: 神業( _Kamiwaza_ ). _Divine work, huh?_ He mulled over the appellation, unconsciously fiddling with the cap of the pen on his other hand.

Despite having been part of the First Division of the Criminal Investigation Bureau of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police for only a month, Akashi had already been given full authority over his department by the Superintendent on his second week.

He still believed it was because Nijimura was connected to his other work. He could understand the hostility of the other officers, but he was glad they just shut their mouth after he had shown them results. It may sound inconceivable at first, but Akashi had proven himself to be capable and deft in such a short period of time, gaining the trust of the other officers under the Major Crimes Department.

Trust. What a strong word it was.

 _How ironic for such a place to be called_ divine _, when it’s everything but that. All it does are nothing but corporeal sins._ Akashi closed his eyes, deep in thought. He replayed the untimely scene inside his head when his superior gave him the case three days prior.

.

.

.

* * *

Half an hour still hadn't passed since he arrived, but Akashi already heard his name get called out from the small speaker boxes hanging on the walls of the First Division's office. The redhead might not show it on his face, but he felt quite… irked. He still had a workload of cases to organize, and now another one was about to get added up to the never-ending pile. He narrowed his eyes on the cursed Superintendent's office. He traipsed in small steps to get to the door, counting each second that passed, making sure he would get the right time to enter. He unwillingly twisted the knob, and wore his on-the-job smile.

"Quit it with the face," Nijimura ordered. The raven-haired Superintendent had his arms folded to his chest. He sent Akashi a repugnant look.

Nijimura was one of the very few who had the guts to do that to Akashi. He was Akashi's upperclassman when he was still in his training years in the Teikou Training Academy. Though, their connection only remained professional even after Nijimura graduated. Nijimura was one of the very few who knew of Akashi's side job. He belonged to the same group before, after all.

 

"We both know you're actually fuming inside about being called so early in the morning," the Superintendent continued, raising an eyebrow.

Akashi didn’t respond.

"What? Didn't get to sleep well because of your night job–"

Akashi raised a hand and sternly narrowed his eyes. "I suggest you don't mention _that_ here, senpai," he said with a smile.

There was a brief pause, before Nijimura replied, shaking his head. "I'm going to, because this actually isn't about an actual case–"

Akashi remained silent, his ears focused on Nijimura's words.

"It’s a request from the Narcotics Department," Nijimura simply divulged as if it were just as common as saying _Hello_.

Akashi frowned. He let his mind process that little bit of information, until he could be sure that he heard correctly. He sighed, closed his eyes, and plastered an antagonizing look on his face which only stressed out his handsome features.

Nijimura snapped his fingers. "There, better," he said. He steadied himself, hands on his back, and continued. "Don't worry, they have no clue about your real identity." He slid a stamped brown envelope on the executive table and dipped his head once, hinting for Akashi to pick it up.

Akashi followed the signal and removed the seal on the envelope. With an uncaring tone, he replied, "Of course. That's only to be expected, unless you want to lose your life, that is." He took the folder inside and flipped it open, perusing its contents.

To say that the words didn't send a shiver down Nijimura's spine would be a lie. He had been on the same line of work before, so he knew that Akashi’s words weren't an empty threat.

With a quirked eyebrow, Akashi continued scanning his eyes through the pages. It was an up-to-date report about a case. "Yellow Diamond?" He asked, his voice almost a mumble.

"Yeah," Nijimura replied with a nod. "It's a new type of drug which has just recently begun to circulate in the black market." He leaned on the table, placing both of his hands on top of it. "Or so… it did, at first. However, there are present reports claiming that it has also begun to spread to the public lately, and, well, to put it in simple terms–"

"It's starting to cause trouble and raise concern," Akashi replied, carefully returning the files back inside the envelope.

"Exactly," Nijimura answered. "And, not just that–"

"It had already killed 11 people, since the first public involvement report was made which wasn’t even a month ago," Akashi continued, not even caring about the fact that he just cut off his superior's words.

A tick of nerve popped on Nijimura's head which he just covered up with a taut smile, his eye twitching. "That's right," he slowly muttered. "Also–"

"Also, the area of concentration is Tokyo's 'Sleepless Town,'" Akashi replied with an impish look.

"Bastard…" Nijimura cursed in a low voice. "I hate how insanely-fucking-intelligent you are," Nijimura strained.

"I'll be taking that as a compliment," Akashi chuckled, completely pleased that he had just outwitted _the_ Nijimura.

Nijimura just tiredly squinted his eyes at the redhead in front of him. _Note to self: Never test an Akashi. They're all not fucking right in the head._ He sighed. "Anyway–"

"You want me to investigate, and find out the fountainhead of the drug and where it’s being distributed." Akashi crossed his arms, tapping the joint of his left elbow with his index finger. "And, maybe, also catch the criminal in the process.” Sending a side-glance, he continued. "However–"

Nijimura remained silent, urging Akashi to continue, though his face still sported a frown.

"–my instinct tells me that something bigger is behind this, and that it won't be an easy task." Bringing his gaze back to his superior's light gray eyes, he finished. "This won't be an easy case, Nijimura-senpai."

Nijimura felt a cold shiver on his back as he watched Akashi’s display of intellect. _Yeah. They aren't fucking right in the head, and most of the time, it's incredible._ He mused to himself, his words meaning in a positive sense. "I know that. That's also why the section opted to request for your assistance." With an incontrovertible look, he asked. "Will you accept it?"

Akashi smirked at his senior's question. "You're seriously asking me that, Director?"

"You're really a brat, you know?" Nijimura sneered, flapping his hand as if signaling Akashi to get out.

Akashi just gave a salute and bowed (that wasn’t even polite but still perfect, Nijimura thought), before turning towards the door. He better start with the preparations. He halted in his steps when his mind presented a crucial concern which had almost slipped his mind. "Wait, am I the only one who has been given this–" Akashi incompletely asked. By the looks Nijimura's face was suggesting, he already knew the answer.

"No. I believe _they_ were also briefed regarding this," Nijimura flashed a smug smile. "Good luck on your work, Captain Akashi."

Akashi almost crumpled the envelope on his hand, his eyes twitching. He answered back with a calm smile. "How sly of you… senpai." He proceeded to exit the room, his eyebrows knitted into a scowl.

Nijimura knew how much Akashi hated playing in a group.

Akashi knew that Nijimura knew how much he loathed doing a job with _them –_ with the other Miracles. He still felt strange using the title and being grouped with _them_ , but right now he couldn’t care less about that. Not that he knew who _they_ were anyway. When Nijimura mentioned the group's involvement, he immediately decided that he will do everything in his power to complete this case, as soon as possible. He wanted to avoid crossing paths with _them_ if he could. They might be birds in a flock, but he didn't want to be grouped together with _them_. And, he believed, _they_ also shared the same sentiments.

.

.

.

Back in his office, Nijimura blankly stared at one of the walls, silently contemplating about the name that came up when he himself investigated the case he had given to Akashi. When he read the name, he immediately knew that Akashi should be the one to handle it. But he knew Akashi couldn’t do it by himself. No matter how perfect a person was, when it came to the matters of the heart they all become fools. He understood that.

Still, he believed. He believed that Akashi, with the other Miracles, would solve this case. And maybe, maybe Akashi would finally find the missing piece of his past. Maybe he would finally remember, Nijimura thought.

 _He will. He's motherfucking absolute, after all._ Nijimura told himself as he collected the mess of papers on his desk. He sat back to his swivel chair, and proceeded to take a sip of the coffee he had prepared earlier.

"Fucking cold."

* * *

And, now, back to the present.

It took Akashi three days to uncover where the drug transactions were taking place.

Three. Whole. Fucking. Days.

An Akashi didn't take three fucking days to dig out a single location. It should be three fucking hours, at most. Or three fucking minutes, at best.

Akashi narrowed his eyes at the characters he had written.

神業 ( _Kamiwaza_ )

He repeated the words in his thoughts. He replayed a series of cases inside his head – both the cases he had read about before and the cases he had been involved in. Nothing came up. None. It was a blank, starting point. He was in deep thought when he heard a shuffling sound which took him out of his reverie. In front of him was Aomine who was carrying a few pages of white paper in his hands.

Akashi closed his journal and placed the pen on top of it. "Good work," Akashi approbated as he reached for the papers.

Aomine gave a salute in reply. _Asshole. You fucking knew, don't you?_ With a small grin, he made his way back to his desk.

Akashi flipped through the papers. The contents of the papers weren't much. Just 3 pages, the last page not even occupying half of the sheet, but it was full of information, nonetheless. _To think that Aomine could do much work in such a short time… I better utilize this ability of his in the future._ Akashi took note of his new discovery about the tanned police.

Aomine felt cold air run down his spine. His instincts told him that he’d be in much trouble in the near future… Or, maybe, he was just coming down with the flu or something? _But, idiots don't catch cold, right? What–_ _Wait, no–_ Whoever said that he was an idiot!? Aomine wasn't, okay? Good.

Akashi's cerise eyes lowered as he immersed himself, reading through the data Aomine had gathered. _Now… I wonder what else I’ll find out?_ He asked to not a soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite my dream to become a forensic scientist someday, I'm actually not familiar with the police organization, so I didn't mention more of that. Sorry. I did research some facts, but most of them came from Wikipedia. :P
> 
> I apologize for all the typos, grammar mistakes, and the likes.
> 
> Another character will appear next chapter! And we all know who it is~ _*wink* *wink*_ I would love to hear your thoughts! Till the next update~


	4. Chapter 3 ✔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rewritten version:** 04/21/2017 (Okay, I seriously can’t believe I wrote this again. Really. I think I traumatized myself.)
> 
> Thank you for all the hits, kudos, and comments!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, unbetaed :3  NON-CON (I know that after this chapter, you’re all going to curse me or, maybe, feed my soul to the devil.)

Waking up in the morning stark naked to find an also unclothed stranger sleeping beside you was a regular occurrence in _Kabukichō_. Primarily, one's reason for exploring the place during the night was to be able to forget the day's mishaps and adversities. It was common for a person to visit the district with an excuse for a goal which was finding someone who will temporarily lend them a part of their fragmented soul. It was a short-term remedy for the broken ones, and it was temporary warmth for the lost. The selfsame circumstances apply for the man fast asleep on the bed inside the VIP room of one of _Kabukichō_ 's nightclubs.

The interior of the room was traditional and plainly decorated, but it gave off a romantic ambiance despite its shady purpose. The massive bed situated in the middle of one of the walls might be considered a main attraction. The room was dimly lit, save for the blistering ray of sunlight peeking through the semi-pulled drapes. If one didn't know better of the place, they’d think that it was a room from one of _Kabukichō_ 's love hotels or even one of the hotels meant for business purposes and not for sex.

Kuroko Tetsuya was lying on his stomach, completely adrift in the beautiful world of dreams his mind had weaved. Only half of his body – from his buttocks down to his feet – was being covered by the downy blanket, tauntingly revealing the slenderness of his back and his milky white skin, inciting prurient curiosity about what more was hidden underneath the shameless fabric.

His head was resting sideways on the feathery pillow, discerning only half of his face for identification as it sunk into the soft cushion. His facial features were youthful and fair, and his hair was a tousle of sky blue locks sticking outwardly in all directions – the very definition of a horrible bed head. His eyelashes, which were of the same color as his hair, were long and finely curved, defining his alluring charm. His lips were supple as it breathed out wisps of air with ease. He was like an ethereal being – ephemeral in a way, and too unsuitable for the vicious living world.

The floor of the room was finished with an overspread of thick woven fabric. Two sets of clothes, including two pairs of undergarments, were haphazardly scattered on the carpeted floor.

The bed had wooden poles on all corners which reached the false ceiling. A closer look on the surface of the bed and one would notice the sticky regions and blotted, dried spots of white arbitrarily staining the bedding. The suggestive scent wafting in the air was powerful and musky. It was the clear reminiscent of a risqué deed. One will forthwith twig the lingering smell of after sex.

Kuroko groaned in his sleep as the muffled racket of sound coming from the swamped streets down below pulled him out of his restful sleep, his abstract world shattering into infinitesimal pieces. With some difficulty, his eyelids flickered open, uncloaking two worn out watery orbs of sky blue – the pastel color similar to his hair. He repeatedly blinked to wash away the residual drowsiness in his system. His mind stopped when he registered the man fast asleep right in front of him. He blinked once, twice, thrice, then feebly shuffled, and carefully rose to a sitting position.

He pressed his palm to his head which had begun to pound. "This is…" He mumbled to himself as he studied the room in hopes of recognition. After deeming it useless, he brought his gaze back to the naked man beside him, warily observing the unconscious person with his teal irises.

The man was brawny and had the appearance of a brute. His skin was pale, contrasting his rogue mien, and his hair was deep black in color. He had distinctively thick eyebrows, drolly, almost in the shape of tadpoles.

Kuroko’s eyes narrowed. It took him a few more seconds before he finally remembered, his eyes widening just the slightest fraction in realization.

 _Again…_ He told himself, silently chastising. It was still blurry, but he did remember – the booming sound of the speakers from the floor a couple of levels below, the drink offered by the man to him last night, the task given to him which involved the very same person, their silent trip together inside the elevator with him leaning close to the man in an awkward attempt of seduction, the sound of the key hitting the door lock, the sickening sound of his moans, unpleasantly false and disgustingly real at the same time, the burning pain and the contemptible pleasure.

He moved to the side of the bed, wrapping the thin blanket around him like a makeshift robe to hide the bruising marks littering his chest as he stood from his position. His knees immediately buckled when he took the first step. Good thing, the side table was there to support him and help him regain his bearing. He felt the usual ache on his back and recognized the familiar wetness which flowed out of his arse. He tried to think of other things except those and finally he succeeded in making the step. A queasy feeling filled his stomach as he felt the liquid dribble between his thighs, then down to his legs.

 _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it_ , he chanted like an broken prayer in his head. Soon, there was nothing but emptiness in his eyes.

 _How many times did we do it again?_ He searched his foggy memories, but found no answer. He was too out of it last night that he lost count after the 4th time. He bit his lip, panting, as he staggered to the window's direction. He reached with a trembling hand and moved the curtains from obstructing his sight, then he slightly peeked behind it.

With dazed eyes, he observed the concatenation of views outside. There were people scampering to and fro from left to right. There were street vendors calling out for business. There were white-collared workers who appeared to have gotten the wrong way and were trapped in the red-light district.

He has always loved those scenes. It was one of the few things that brought smile to his lips within the ruthless world he had been living in for so long. Whenever he espied such fleeting moments, it felt like he was existing in a completely different dimension – in a place where his heart could be filled with hope… and the desire to live. He knew that it was only one of his made-up fantasies, but he felt an evanescent contentment doing that. Even if it was faux, he felt… alive.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Suddenly, he felt strong arms wrap around his waist, yanking him from behind. He tightly clenched the drapes so as to avoid losing his balance, but it didn't work. The strong force of being jerked almost made him tear the curtains down. He might appear delicate and weak, but his slightly toned body wasn't just for show.

The other man seemed to have woken up from his slumber, and was set to continue his aggressive advances from last night.

Kuroko felt his entire body got roughly pushed against the nearest wall, drawing out a yelp from his mouth. His left wrist was pinned against the wall. He tried not to let go of his makeshift clothing. He did his best to firmly secure the bundled fabric around him using only his right hand. Warmth pressed on his trapezius, and he felt the breath of the man against his skin as the other stifled a laugh. The man continued sending butterfly kisses which were anything but sweet on Kuroko’s nape as he tried to wriggle his wrist free of the man's hold.

"W-Wait, we just had a lot–" Kuroko mumbled in refusal, but was immediately shut off when the man briefly let go of his wrist, and flipped him over, so that he was facing him.

The man, in a jiff, covered the bluenette's mouth with his right palm. He was wearing an amused look as he hummed. "What's this? We can't have you acting so innocent now, can we?"

Kuroko leaned against the wall at the sudden pressure preventing him from speaking and breathing. He felt trapped. Tears began to form in his eyes as he struggled to supply his lungs with air. Despite this, the color in his eyes remained icy, cold.

The man assertively took both his wrists and pinned them against the wall, before callously joining his lips with the bluenette's.

Kuroko involuntarily let go of the blanket, completely baring his entire body. Dark purple bruises were discoloring the once white surface of his chest. He let out a gasp as he felt the thin fabric slid down in contact with his sensitive skin. He squirmed within the man's grasps, but this proved to be just another futile action. The other was too strong compared to him.

The man licked the bluenette's lower lip as if asking for entrance, to which, the latter just closed his eyes in response. He brought his mouth beside the bluenette's ears and augured with a whisper. "Your master surely won't like it if I told him how uncooperative you've become, but–" He pressed the bluenette harder against the wall, placing his right knee between the latter's wavering thighs. "–I also like this defiant attitude of yours."

The bluenette's eyes briefly widened, eliciting a loud moan, as the other cruelly rubbed his knee against his sensitive part. He knew the man was playing around with him, and he also knew that the man was enjoying it.

The man took this opportunity and slipped his tongue inside the bluenette's hot cavern, tasting every corner of the Kuroko’s mouth. He skillfully moved his tongue around, causing the latter to let out moans which sounded like beautiful melody to his ears, and a woeful dirge to the Kuroko’s.

Kuroko’s consciousness briefly flickered at the lack of oxygen, his knees buckling. However, the man didn't seem to care and continued to mercilessly devour his lips, deepening the kiss as each second passed. It was a few more seconds after that before the man finally let him go, much to his favor. He slid down the floor, his hand touching the wall's surface for support. He was rendered a panting mess as he felt his entire body quiver at the amorous advances' aftereffects. He felt the pooling sensation hit his sensitive organ… and he felt remorse. He hated how the human constitution works. He hated how his body had become. He hated how his body had gotten used to the sickening pleasures of sex.

"See? You like it, after all," the man mischievously chuckled.

Before Kuroko could even regain his breathing, the man pulled him up to his feet and dragged him back to the bed's direction. He felt the sheets graze his skin as he was forcibly thrown to the soft cushions – it was soft, but the contact was rough. He felt the pain from last night course through his body. He curled himself up and gritted his teeth, attempting to lessen the throbbing sensation through his subdued actions.

The man licked his lips in anticipation. "You look better like that," he cackled with laughter. A creaking sound filled the room as the man climbed the bed and hovered over Kuroko.

Kuroko felt too enervated to move. He remained still. His mind grimly counted the following seconds. He knew what was coming next.

The man took both of Kuroko’s wrists, and secured the latter’s arms on top of his head. He slung one of the bluenette's thighs on his shoulder.

Kuroko shivered when he noticed the arrogant smirk and the amusement in the man's grayish brown eyes. He slowly shook his head. He knew what the man was planning to do. The very thought turned his entire body cold. He wasn't sure if his body can take any more of it. "Hanamiya-san, I-I can't…" He pleaded, his voice faltering, because he also knew that his words would only cause the grin on the man's face to widen… And it did, much to his dread.

"Oh, we can't have that," Hanamiya said in a false reprimanding tone. He pulled Kuroko closer by the latter's leg, and pressed his cock to his prey's entrance. With a wicked smirk, he continued. "Consider this equivalent exchange. You were the one who seduced me, after all."

Kuroko felt the disgusting member pressed against his entrance. His entire body turned cold. "No, I didn't–!"

A dark smirk crossed Hanamiya’s lips as he violently thrust his member, the bluenette's body jolting at the sudden movement.

Kuroko let out a scream as the twinge hit his body. The invading feeling rubbing against his walls made him whimper in pain. It felt like his entire body was burning again. He was trembling, but the man's hand kept him in place. He felt warm. He felt cold. He shut his eyes, and filled his mind with other thoughts – of the streets, of bright mornings, of the person who caused him to suffer like this dying in his own hands – but the feeling was too overwhelming. It was suffocating, revolting. No matter how much he hated it, the man's movement occasionally induced a moan out of him – both because of pain and pleasure. He bit his lips to try to suppress down the sound, but sometimes, whenever the unwelcomed organ brushed against his prostate, a cry of pleasure would just uncontrollably escape his mouth.

Hanamiya began hastening his pace. He groaned as the tightness clamped around his cock.

Kuroko’s breathing grew erratic. His eyes were red with tears and hazed. His voice gradually became hoarse. The intruding sensation muddled his thoughts. His throat felt dry and scratchy. His arms were strained and numb. His wrists felt as if they were going to bruise, or, maybe, they were already bruising. He wasn't sure anymore. His back, his chest, his bottom – his entire body was aching. He didn't even know where it specifically hurt. Against his will, he listened to the disgusting voice he was letting out and the relentless sound of skin slapping against skin. With half-lidded eyes, he caught glimpse of the man who was grinning at him as he writhed under his gaze. He compared the other's dead black hair with his own existence. Dead. And without color.

Soon, black dots began to swim in his vision. The pain became non-existent as his awareness of everything gradually faded. A last droplet of tear fell from the corner of his eyes.

His eyes slowly drooped close. His mind might or might not have registered it when the man came inside of him. He was drifting slowly, slowly.

_To think, that a flowery truth can also be a lie…_

His consciousness teetered on the edge of slipping away. He remembered how he hadn't greeted the day yet – or the afternoon, to be exact.

So he did.

He also hoped it'd be his last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for writing this. Feel free to tell me how crappy I am and how much I suck. I’m also open to death threats.
> 
> Now, excuse me, because I will now kill myself.


	5. Chapter 4 ✔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rewritten version:** 05/26/2017 (This actually had been sitting in my docs for 3 weeks, but-)
> 
> I’ve been job hunting these past few weeks, so I apologize if this chapter came super late. XD I’ve finished rewriting a few chapters, but I’ve this weird tendency to not post anything, not until I’ve completed a certain quota or smth.
> 
> (Also, I DON’T advise reading the other chapters with the rewritten chapters. This is because I’ve changed a bunch of things which might make the story one helluva mess like myself.)
> 
> Just so we’re clear, I’m an AkaKuro warrior, through and through. I don’t ship Kuroko with anyone else, except Akashi. **BECAUSE THEY ARE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER**. The last chapter was necessary, because I need everyone to catch a glimpse of Kuroko’s *insert synonyms of the word “miserable” here* life.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks, and comments!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed :3

An hour or two had passed, since Akashi had left the office. It had only been a month since he left Kyoto, but commuting in the city still didn’t sit well with him. He was too used to being picked up by his chauffeur day in and day out. As far as he could remember, it had always been that way. However, he didn’t regret letting go of that luxury.

He didn’t want to be tied down to his name, to all the achievements of the Akashi family that had lived through time. It was one of the reasons he decided to leave for Tokyo.

Akashi Masaomi might be making use of his son’s decision to not succeed the family business and make his own name, so he could extend the enterprise and still tie his son down in the end. It was like killing two birds using one stone to him. But his son knew better.

To Akashi, it was also killing two birds with one stone–he got to live away from his cursed life and however the fuck he wanted.

It had been three weeks since he had started to live in his current apartment unit. He spent his first week _illegally detained_ –what was the point of labor codes even?–in the department, because of this one big-ass case Nijimura had included him in. He had no time to go home, hence also no time to eat what one called acceptable food and take what one called acceptable baths.

The 6-storey mixed-used building he was staying in wasn’t much really. It had a simple exterior and minimal distinguishing features. It wasn’t even that remarkable, unlike the other buildings standing tall in the metro.

He decided to maintain a low profile while he lodged in the city, despite his father’s offers to him to stay in one of their family’s condominium. He would never ask his father for help. Everything he would use would come from his own pockets and would be gained by his own hands. He knew his stay in the city would be lengthy, so he was learning bit by bit how to keep his expenses at bay, starting with his lodging.

Akashi reached for one of the hanging cabinets in the kitchen–a special unit where he kept jars upon jars of tea leaves. He took one and proceeded to prepare the tea to help boost his concentration. Then, he took a can of sugared cookies from another cabinet and placed a few on a clean platter. The kitchen remained unused, except for when he had the urge to have a cup of tea or two. He had lived off convenience store food, because it took less time to prepare–after all, you just needed to buy it–and lesser money on ingredients since they were ready-to-eat. He ate out when he had the time.

He went over to the living area and set the tray of tea and snack on the coffee table. He had eaten out before he went home tonight. Having Aomine do some of the work earlier spared him the time.

He sat down the three-seater sofa and poured the tea in his cup. He let its aroma relax his mind as he eyed the scattered files beside the tray. It was the data Aomine had gathered for him. He brought the cup to his lips, took a sip, and placed it back to the porcelain saucer. Then, he picked up the files. Just like earlier that day, the papers felt cold and heavy against his fingertips.

The material contained a list of names of _Kamiwaza_ ’s regulars and staffs, including a brief description of each of them. Most were using aliases as he had initially suspected. As it turned out, Aomine hadn’t finished digging their real identification.

Akashi knew it wasn’t the guy’s fault, though. The fact that Aomine had gathered this much information in such a short time was something else entirely. He himself took three days to pinpoint the exact location where the drug transactions were taking place.

He continued studying the names. He had already scanned the contents earlier, but he felt more comfortable making an in depth analysis in his own apartment than in the office. After all, one never knew who was watching or listening.

 _Even walls have ears and eyes_ , his mind supplied as he took another sip of tea. He wasn’t so careless to let someone–or anyone at all–sniff out his identity, his real work. He didn’t do his work as slovenly as Aomine did his.

The Agency’s involvement was of utmost secrecy, not just in this case but in all the cases that they took. If people were to know of the Agency’s existence, even Akashi had no idea what would happen. Anyway, as far as he cared, that would never happen. Not anytime soon.

He was about to nibble on a piece of cookie, when his eyes caught onto something. He immediately returned the cookie to the platter and hastily flicked open his messenger back which had been sitting beside him. He took out a notepad and flipped it to an empty page. He unclasped the pen habitually hooked on his shirt’s neck hole and proceeded to write in dark, thick letters.

**Ogiwara Shigehiro**

He was pretty sure he heard a _click_ when the meager connection registered in his head. Ogiwara Shigehiro was the 7 th victim of the deadly narcotic, of Yellow Diamond.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been keeping in. _May his soul rest in peace_. He mentally expressed his sympathies, though, he knew no sympathies would let the man’s soul peacefully pass on. Not until he found the guy, the people responsible for the creation and dealings of the drug, and have them pay for their crimes.

 _Though, that’ll be just putting things easy for them. The Agency had been given this case, which means justice won’t be serving them well_ , Akashi thought. He continued browsing the guy’s data.

Alias: **Chestnut**  
Birth name:  Ogiwara Shigehiro  
Age: 23 y/o  
Gender: Male  
Height: 177 cm  
Weight: 66 kg

Description: Average height and build. Chestnut-colored hair, hence his alias. Brown eyes. Worked in _Kamiwaza_ for four years, until he left his post in mid-September. In charge of bartending. Reports confirmed his engagement in sexual activities with customers after work hours. In close relationship with Kurokage.

“Mid-September?” Akashi frowned in curiosity. “That isn’t even two weeks ago.” _A recent victim_ , he thought. _But is he the last? There might be others left unaccounted for._

He wrote another name beside Ogiwara’s. This one, he remembered, was on the first page of the file.

**Kagami Taiga**

He flipped the page back and read the person’s description again. He didn’t think he missed the connection when he had first read the file.

Alias: **Tiger**  
Birth name:  Kagami Taiga  
Age: Unknown  
Gender: Male  
Height: 190 cm  
Weight: 82 kg

Description: Tall and overwhelming appearance. Dark red hair and eyes. Recent addition to _Kamiwaza_ 's staffs. Estimated to be working at the nightclub for only a month and a half up to present. Works in the kitchen. Discovered Ogiwara Shigehiro's body two blocks away from the club, the same night of Ogiwara’s death. In close relation with Kurokage.

Akashi narrowed his eyes at the name. _Kurokage_ , he said in his mind. A distant ringing began pounding in his ears, and he tried to blink it away.

“Kurokage,” he whispered. His voice would’ve made him laugh if it weren’t for the uncomfortable sound of silence. The way he said those four syllables was like a prayer, an answered prayer. And it was strange how he just thought of that.

He slowly wrote down the name above Ogiwara’s and Kagami’s. He could feel his heart thud against his chest with the brittle sound each stroke of his pen made.

**Kurokage**

He encircled it, then drew two arrows from “Kagami Taiga” and “Ogiwara Shigehiro,” pointing them towards “Kurokage.”

He didn’t remember reading anything about the mystery person, despite having scanned the entire thing earlier. As it turned out, the person’s name was on the third page. He was baffled because it wasn't the only thing written on the paper, and he couldn’t possibly have missed it. Did he simply forget? He shook his head and decided it was a waste of time to ponder over such atrocity.

Alias: **Kurokage**  
Birth name:  Unknown  
Age: Unknown  
Gender: Male (Unverified; Based on witnesses’ accounts)  
Height: Unknown  
Weight: Unknown

Description: No descriptions available. Information regarding said person is unverified. Said to be in close relation to Chestnut and Tiger. Might be involved in sex trade.

Akashi felt his stomach twist. It wasn’t unlikely for people to resort in that kind of work, but no matter how many times he encountered cases such as this, he always wanted to get to the end of it and, if possible, help the person start anew. He knew it was just wishful thinking, but he couldn’t help thinking that way. No. It wasn’t even the case at hand, his mind countered. What he couldn’t believe was how a person could be so elusive in the eyes of the authorities. Except…

“Except if someone is backing the person up and preventing their information from reaching the–” His eyes widened at the disgusting thought. _No._ He shook his head. There was no way. Aomine might’ve only made a mistake, he thought. He couldn’t believe he just actually thought of a mole under Nijimura. The very thought was impossible.

 _Improbable_ , a voice in his head countered.

“Shut up,” he quietly said as he massaged his temple with his fingers. He could feel the unwelcome pricks of headache, so he reached for his messenger bag and fetched a bottle of painkillers. He unclasped the cap, took one, and dryly swallowed the pink tablet.

He couldn’t let this dead end get to him. No, it wasn’t even a dead end. It wasn’t a distinct connection, but he could feel something more. And his gut feeling had never been wrong once in his life.

He rested his back against the couch. He closed his eyes and let the pale light of the living room and the effects of the medicine wash away his headache. He listened to the clock’s ticking and tried to match his breathing with it. Soon, the pain was gone.

 _Well, then._ He heaved a sigh and stood up. The accumulating heaviness inside his chest was lulled down into the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat. Though, his mind was still in discontent as he trudged his way to his bedroom.

As usual, the door to his bedroom was left open. He developed this habit on his first week in this apartment. He was too busy with his day and night jobs that the short activity of closing the door had always, always, left his mind.

He went inside, and pressed the light switch on. He picked out a plain carmine dress shirt and a pair of black trousers in the closet. He pulled the shirt he was wearing over his head, threw it to the bed, and buttoned up his new outfit. Then, he exchanged his shorts for the new trousers next.

After that, he pulled over the top drawer of his bed’s left nightstand and took one of the three glasses cases inside. He only used them for reading, but he deemed it could also be useful as a disguise. Not that many people in the area knew him yet and it was actually a good thing, but they knew of Akashi Masaomi’s heir and he couldn’t gamble on that. He wasn’t hiding or anything, but he didn’t want to take his family’s name with him. Yes, he was still carrying it, but, if someone dared to ask, he could brush it off as a distant connection or none at all. It was a good thing his appearance took after his late mother.

The black rimmed glasses complemented his youthful appearance. It made him look even more intellectual, and he knew that he could work it to his advantage. It wasn't stylish, but it did naturally fit his already dashing features.

He adjusted the glasses on his nose and made his way to the entrance of his apartment. The thought of closing his bedroom's door slipped his mind again.

He was about to pull the front door open when he remembered something. He messed his crimson locks using both of his hands, before swiftly combing them back once, twice. Then, he checked his reflection on the mirror to his left.

 _Perfect._ He smirked, and sent one last glance to his apartment. _I'm off._ He didn’t know why he was always saying that when there was nobody waiting for him to come back. It had become a habit he couldn’t brush off as easily as he could forget Kurokage’s– He shook his head. _It’s not the time._

His hand found its way to the light switch. He pressed it off and, finally, he exited his apartment, leaving it the dark, unhomely, shelter it would always be.

He didn’t meet anyone as he left the building. Good, he thought, even chance was working to his advantage.

He checked his wristwatch for time. It was less than a quarter before ten o’clock–a very unlikely time to pay someone a visit.

As he walked through the quiet streets, his thoughts went back to Kurokage. There was this feeling that wouldn’t stop building in his chest. Something distant, something close. Something foreign, something familiar. It was like he knew that he didn’t know and that he didn’t know that he knew, and no matter how many times he tried to shake the feeling, it stubbornly comes back to him.

He briefly stopped in his track and sighed. Now, he didn’t understand what he was thinking about anymore. Maybe, he needed to consult this with Midorima again. The voice speaking in his head had considerably lessened recently and the headaches weren’t that frequent anymore. But they were still there. He decided he would call Midorima after he checked this Kurokage person.

Then, his thoughts returned to thinking about Kurokage again. He scowled at the pavement in disbelief.

Why did he keep thinking–

He was sure he could be mistaken as a murderer, if someone were to find him glaring daggers at the concrete sidewalk. He was saved from getting arrested like that when a thought suddenly occurred to him. He blinked and all was away.

“Oh, I forgot to lock the door again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a bad idea that I decided to rewrite this and just re-up the chapters? Should I just make it a new work or smth? Idek. (∩︵∩)


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the hits, kudos, bookmarks, and comments!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed. :3

[ **22:31** ]

Akashi swiped the display of his smartphone, and waited for its screen to automatically sleep. He slipped it back to his right pocket, before resuming his late night walk. It was already past a normal person’s bedtime, but Akashi knew that it was the best time to carry out his stakeout mission. He may have decided to do it so early in the game, but he would rather accomplish things– no matter how small its relevance is to the case he was given– than dawdle about, and wait for a new victim to appear outside his apartment’s door. He can always connect the dots from the gathered information, and easily come to an apposite conclusion. He does everything impeccably, and he will finish this case in the same faultless way.

Five more minutes passed, before he arrived to his destination.

Akashi was now standing outside the nightclub of interest. The white lights were beaming in front of his eyes as he slowly treaded the way, inspecting every corner of the club’s façade. He discreetly glowered at the pulsing flicker of the bar’s neon signage.

**Kamiwaza (** **神** **業** **)**

_Such atrocity. It doesn’t even appear heavenly, at all._

The massive structure may have been one of the most simplistic architectural styles he had ever laid his eyes upon. It was formal than what he had originally imagined it would appear to be in person, but he did expect something orthodox like this. He had seen the photographed profile of the club, but the picture was taken during the daytime, so he thought it will be more “posh” at night.

How wrong he was.

It would appear dull, barring the monstrosity of lights blinking excessively, which was very annoying to the redhead’s eyes.

Akashi adjusted his phony glasses as he made his way to the entrance where a burly man was standing.

The man extended his left arm, blocking Akashi’s way, before looking down at the redhead with his ebony irises. “Wait,” the man spoke, his voice was low and husky, seemly for his muscular frame.

Akashi stopped just in front of the man, and tilted his head upwards. The man was too tall for his liking, but he has to act calm and collected, and not let any sort of unnecessary emotions slip in his face. “What?” Akashi asked. His face was relaxed, and his expression was able and cool.

“Ever drifting down the stream, lingering in the golden gleam,” the man recited like a poem, his voice a bit pitched, slightly unbefitting of his outer appearance.

Akashi inwardly smirked. He had already seen this coming.

VIP members were privately given a loyalty card which will serve as their entrance pass to the club. Normal club-goers like Akashi, if you could call him that, were given a code to solve. As to what its purpose was, Akashi still isn’t sure.

Akashi smugly raised his eyebrow inside his mind. _Too easy for a password. No wonder, people easily get inside even without a pass._ With an eased smile, he replied. “Life what is but a dream?” His voice was so smooth, and the way those words escaped his lips were filled with emotion that even the man remained staring at him in awe for a handful of seconds.

“Man, that was good!” The man praised, his mouth agape for a few more seconds. “You may go in,” he dipped his head towards the entrance, giving Akashi permission to enter. “Enjoy your night,” he muttered without looking at the redhead.

Akashi noticed the man pick something from his side, though he wasn’t sure what it was, at first. “Why, thank you for the compliment,” he smiled, before continuing his way. He sent a side-glance, and saw that the man was chomping on something which looked like a half-finished hamburger. Now, he wasn’t so sure if the man really was seriously guarding the place. When he wasn’t facing the man anymore, his face reverted to his cool persona. The atmosphere around him was cold and unwelcoming, as if it would prick you if you come within a meter or two’s vicinity around him. Well, he chose to adopt that personality, thinking that it would fit the alibi he had decided to go with– a perfect son who wanted to let loose from his strict father’s hold. Thoroughly, without fault. It was the very definition of him, after all, save for the fact that he had decided to live free from his father, and has been doing it for a while now. He knew he could play the role well. He always does, anyway.

Akashi observed the inside of the club. The spotlights were flashing on what appeared to be a dance floor. The area was dim, except for the grooving lights. There was the booming music that he oh-so hated very much. He’s fond of listening to music, but he greatly prefers classical music which was soothing to one’s mind, unlike the loud abomination playing inside the bar. Not that he could do anything about it, so he just approached the bartender’s area, carefully making his way so as not to bump unto the other customers. He sat himself to an unoccupied bar stool and rested his arms on top of the counter. He waited for a few moments for the bartender to notice him.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender asked with an easygoing smile. His blonde hair appeared to be shimmering as the bright lights hit his head, despite the dark surrounding.

“I’m not too fond of cocktails, so, maybe, just your specialty, I guess?” Akashi replied with an arched eyebrow, his thumb and index finger on his lips, as if unsure about his decision.

Act above suspicion and new.

The bartender grinned. “Then, margarita it is!” He spiritedly replied before setting down the glass he had been wiping. As he was preparing the drink Akashi had ordered, he turned his head once and asked. “’You new here?”

Akashi breathed a fake laugh. “Yes, my friend recommended me the place.”

“Is that so? I’ve been seeing the same faces lately, so I kinda knew already that you haven’t been to this place,” the bartender smiled as he poured over the mixture inside the clean cocktail glass, before garnishing it with a lime slice. “Here. I hope for the divine providence to lead you to the right way. Enjoy your night!”

 _Divine providence, my ass._ “Thank you,” Akashi took the drink with a friendly smile. He took a sip and let the citrus taste slid past his throat as he shrewdly observed his surroundings. The lights reflected in his red irises as he surveyed the interior of the bar.

It really did appear normal, but the reports said otherwise. Also, he has this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that there’s more to Kamiwaza than what it has bare for everyone to see.

Nothing seemed to be out of place, at the moment, though. Did he come at the wrong time? Was it too early for him to do a stakeout?

Akashi was too busy assessing the place that he didn’t notice the person who sat a stool apart from him.

“Kise-kun, a margarita, please,” a gentle voice spoke, which made Akashi jolt and almost choke in his drink. He slowly turned his head, and peered at the voice’s direction. The voice was too soft and gentle, he argued in his head, if he actually heard it right. The loud sound may have swallowed the voice too instantly, but, he was sure– so sure– that it was too unfit for the place.

That’s when he saw him.

A man who appears to be on his 20’s, his right elbow was on top of the counter, his chin rested on the back of his hand as he absentmindedly stared down at the countertop with jaded eyes. And he was dressed rather… inappropriate.

The man appeared to be average in height, and was sporting beautiful sky blue locks that speak of a calm afternoon. His drowning eyes were of the same alluring color, despite his irises having revealed only a fraction of its tint. His skin was milky, and it appeared to be glowing under the flickering lights. It looked soft and compulsive to the touch. He was wearing a gray ribbed high-neck crop top and a pair of high-wasted black leather shorts. The long sleeves of a blue checkered dress shirt were tied around his waist. His thighs are covered with thin black socks reaching just about an inch or two above his knees, as if taunting someone, tempting them to steal a glance– Akashi did, for a split second– at the small portion of his exposed thigh. A pair of dark brown combat boots completed his attire. He has this strange aura– too hard to pinpoint– around him which caught Akashi’s interest.

 _When did he–_ Akashi was staring at the bluenette with his eyes slightly wider than usual. The glass of margarita was left hanging in front of his lips. To think, that he didn’t feel the man’s presence, at all. It was the very first time something like that happened.

“W-Whoa! K-Kurokocchi, don’t scare me like that!” The bartender whose name appears to be “Kise” – Akashi noted– scolded with a loud voice.

Akashi didn’t remember him from the data Aomine had submitted him. He’ll make sure to chastise the tanned cop for giving him an incomplete profile of Kamiwaza’s personnel. He knew he was partially at fault, though.

The redhead raised an eyebrow at the strange name. Kurokocchi.

“I didn’t, though?” The bluenette replied as he repeatedly massaged the area from his glabella to his temples, his slender fingers gliding against his soft skin. The loud noise seemed to be not to his liking.

Akashi knew they will surely become close, if only the present situation isn’t the same.

“And, will you please lower down your voice, Kise-kun? It’s annoying,” the bluenette straightforwardly reviled with a ragged sigh.

“Kurokocchi, you meanie!” Kise whined with a pout as he prepared the bluenette’s drink.

With another sigh, the person named “Kurokocchi”– Akashi noted the odd nickname, a code name, perhaps?– continued rubbing his temples.

“Are you alright?” Akashi spoke, still staring at the bluenette. He blinked as the words unconsciously came out of his mouth. It wasn’t his intention to pry, at all. It wasn’t even his intention to talk to the bluenette. The last thing he wanted to happen is for someone to get suspicious of him, and for his identity to get found out while doing a stakeout.

The bluenette briefly turned his gaze towards Akashi.

Akashi noted the other’s empty eyes and the dark bags under the bluenette’s eyes. _Don’t tell me–_ His eyes widened, ever so slightly. The file Nijimura gave him didn’t include the side-effects of Yellow Diamond, but he knew some of the side-effects other drugs can induce.

“Here you go,” Kise slid the drink over the countertop for Kurokocchi to reach.

“…And he is?” Kurokocchi asked as he swirled the glass, the contents of his cocktail mixing.

Akashi knew that the question was directed to him, but was meant for Kise to answer.

“Oh. He’s new here. ‘Said his friend recommended the place,” Kise casually replied.

“My name’s Ogi…” Akashi deliberately trailed. It was almost transient, but he noticed the bluenette’s eyes flicker. _Bingo._ He inwardly smirked. “…no,” he placed his glass of margarita back to the countertop, and held out his hand– obviously, for a handshake.

Kurokocchi’s face reverted back to the same expressionless face like nothing happened. He just stared, before turning his head back to Kise. “You better rethink your life choices, Ogino-san,” he said.

Akashi’s eye twitched, when his heartfelt gesture was brushed off. “Huh? What do you mean?” Akashi pretended that he didn’t catch the bluenette’s words, but the other just shrugged. Akashi felt disturb. He has a feeling that this “Kurokocchi” may have the information he wanted.

“Whoa… I thought you’re going to say Ogiwa–” Kise mumbled with a look of surprise, but was cut-off mid-sentence by the bluenette.

“Kise-kun, you’re annoying.”

Kise just pursed his lips, and childishly puffed his cheeks, before his face contorted into nothing else but concerned. “Anyway, Kurokocchi, are you okay?” Kise leaned over the countertop to level his gaze to the bluenette’s.

“Yes. It’s nothing for you to worry about, Kise-kun,” the bluenette nonchalantly replied with his eyes shut close as he drank from his glass.

“But…” Kise indistinctly spoke, worry masking his voice.

Akashi understood the bartender’s concern. Kurokocchi looked evidently pale, he was almost glowing underneath the dim lights, and Akashi knew that it wasn’t the other’s normal complexion. His eyes were also reddish which doesn’t suit his light blue orbs. The dark bags under his eyes were also something to be unsettled about. It was ruining his fine– if Akashi could call it that– looks. It didn’t suit his youthful appearance. And lastly, his stare was just so blank, as if it would drown you into nothingness. His gaze will turn someone cold, in an instant.

Akashi knew something was wrong.

 _Does he know about Yellow Diamond?_ Akashi asked himself as he finished drinking his glass of margarita. _He might know something about the drug, but–_ Akashi carefully placed the empty glass on the countertop. He reminded himself of the goal of his stakeout. The person named “Kurokage.” _No. Maybe, this person knew–_ Akashi’s thoughts were disrupted when he noticed the bluenette almost fell from his seat as the latter swayed to his side. The glass shattered on the floor, but it was too noisy inside the bar for the other customers to hear. Akashi promptly reached for the bluenette, but the latter was, unfortunately, caught by someone else.

It was a gray-haired guy who was wearing the exact same uniform as Kise.

“K-Kurokocchi!” Kise shouted in alarm as he watched the bluenette, his expression distressed.

The gray-haired man tightly grabbed Kurokocchi’s forearm and forcibly pulled the latter to his feet.

“O-Oww– Haizaki-kun, please let go–” the bluenette let out a silent yelp, but the gray-haired man just stared him down.

“The boss is looking for you. ‘Said you have something you forgot to give him,” Haizaki spat with a smirk, still holding the bluenette by his wrist.

“Shougo-kun! Don’t–” Kise tried to protest, but Haizaki just shut him up with a scowl.

The blonde settled with glaring at the gray-haired man as he bit on his lower lip in contempt.

 _Haizaki Shougo?_ Akashi remembered the name inside his head. He had read about the other from the data Aomine gave him. The gray hair color and the delinquent-like appearance fitted the bill.

“Tch. Shut up, Ryouta,” the ashen-haired man just clucked his tongue with an obvious annoyed look plastered on his face.

“Let go, I’ll come with you,” Kurokocchi mumbled, his voice almost inaudible.

Haizaki looked at the bluenette with disinterest in his eyes. “Tch,” he clicked his tongue as he let go of Kurokocchi’s wrist.

The bluenette stumbled to steady himself, with the aid of the stool and the countertop.

“Hurry your ass up!” Haizaki yelled as he sent one last glare before turning, and stomping his way towards a narrow hallway at the far backside of the bar. “Kurokage, my ass, you’re just a fucking slut,” he hissed as he walked away.

 _Kurokage?_ Akashi’s ears perked at the mention of the name. He wasn’t sure if he heard Haizaki right, because of the blaring music, but the words he spoke seemed to be that.

The bluenette followed Haizaki behind, his fists tightly curled up.

Akashi was left, all by himself, with an empty glass, and the bittersweet aftertaste of margarita lingering in his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been sick last week, so I put off writing for a while. I really hate summer. -_- This is the second time I’ve been sick, since our vacation began.
> 
> I didn’t change Haizaki’s hair color, because he looked more badass (to me) like that. Also, I referred to Kuroko as “Kurokocchi,” because Akashi still doesn’t know his name. I think it’s kinda annoying but… Oh, well.
> 
> (You think this was an uneventful chapter? Then, better wait for the next~ _*evil smile*_ I’m not foreshadowing anything– _*whistles while glancing sideways*_ )


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this fic reached 1k hits. XD Thank you for the love, guys!
> 
> I only edited this chapter once, because I'm too excited to write the chapter/s next to this. lol
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed.  Prepare your hearts. :3

Kise noticed the dragged glance Akashi was sending to the direction the bluenette was taken away. "Ohh~ Ogino-kun, are you interested in Kurokocchi?" The blonde bartender had a knowing grin plastered on his face as he impishly asked.

Kurokocchi was long gone and Akashi had lost the opportunity to question him. Well, there was still Kise who he can ask about the said person. From the looks of it, the bartender was stupid enough to not suspect him after almost mentioning the name "Ogiwara." "Maybe, I am," Akashi replied with a pleasant, indicative smile.

"I knew it! Isn't Kurokocchi adorable?" Kise's eyes were glimmering with annoying fondness for the bluenette.

Akashi hated the look, but he needed to know everything he could about the bluenette. He can't let the first clue slip his grasp for a second time.

That isn't how he works. That isn't how an Akashi works.

"He's the most adorable person ever, don't you think?" Kise continued rambling on. "This place, honestly, doesn't suit him. Kurokocchi's too kind, you know? He's just… surrounded with the wrong people," the bartender's expression turned gloomy as he spoke. He was wiping a new cocktail glass with a clean cloth, waiting for the next customer he will serve. "Since Ogiwaracchi passed away, Kurokocchi's been busy with a lot of customers. Good thing, Kagamicchi's still here, but…"

Akashi thought he has seen a pair of dog ears fold in dejection atop the blonde's head. He immediately shook the cringeworthy thought off his mind. "Come again?" Akashi mirrored the sympathetic expression. _"Ogiwaracchi" and "Kagamicchi?" That sounds like…_ Akashi clasped his fingers together on top of the counter. All ears, and attentively listening. _Does he mean Ogiwara Shigehiro and Kagami Taiga? Does that mean–_

"Ohh–" Kise's face flushed a dust of pink. "I meant Ogiwara-kun and Kagami-kun. I apologize, Ogino-kun," the blonde scratched his cheek with an index finger. "I have this habit of adding '–cchi' to the names of the person I respect."

"Is that so?" _I see. Then, it wasn't 'Kurokocchi,' but 'Kuroko-kun,' was it?_ "Don't worry, it wasn't a problem at all," Akashi faked a chuckle, but nobody would notice that the action was false. "Won't you also call me Oginocchi, then?" He requested in a flirtatious tone. He immediately regretted the very act. It was too foreign to him… and, honestly, it sounded disgusting even to his own ears.

"Ehh~ What's this? Ogino-kun, are you flirting with me?" Kise replied with a mischievous grin.

Akashi felt a vein pop on top of his head. He clutched his stomach as he laughed. "No, it was just a joke. I believe I did mention that the one I'm interested in is–"

"Kurokocchi," Kise finished the redhead's sentence for him. "Though, that's too bad for you, Ogino-kun," Kise returned the martini glass he had been wiping back to the set.

Akashi felt his eyebrow quirk. "And why is that?"

Kise broadly smiled as if he was about to boast about something. "Because… Kurokocchi is–"

"Oi, Kise! Have you seen, Kuroko?" A red-haired man, wearing the same uniform as the bartender, except for the additional white apron over it, came running to the bar. He smacked his palm atop the granite countertop as he glared at the blonde.

"Whoa– Chill down, Kagamicchi–" Kise said as he was about to pick up a new martini glass. He slapped the man's hand away, and wiped the counter surface clean, free of the other's sweat, before he gave his reply. "Kurokocchi's been taken away by Shougo-kun. Shougo-kun said that the boss was looking for him. Not that I know who the 'boss' he was talking about was. For all I know, Harasawa-san was out of town for a week."

Akashi noted the information inside his head.

"That dimwit! Didn't even bother to show his face–" The man clucked his tongue, and grumbled as he stomped his way back to the door with 'Unauthorized Personnel Not Allowed" hanging on it.

Kise returned his attention to Akashi. "Sorry about that, Ogino-kun, that was Kagamicchi– I mean, Kagami-kun, he had been bothering Kurokocchi, since he started working here three weeks ago," Kise leaned on the countertop, and closed the distance between him and the redhead. "He's Kurokocchi's friend, but I think he also has a thing for Kurokocchi," he cautiously whispered, like a friend gossiping about someone close to him.

"Hehh…" Akashi looked over the direction Kagami took once more. "Kuroko-kun's quite famous, isn't he?" He smiled at the blonde.

"What are you talking about, Ogino-kun?" Kise looked at Akashi, his expression in complete incredulity.

Akashi pressed his lips together, and discreetly sent the blonde a wary look. Did he say the wrong thing?

"Of, course Kurokocchi is famous!" Kise spiritedly huffed, his arms akimbo like a mother proud of his daughter's achievements.

Akashi knew there was nothing to be proud of. He felt the lout thumping inside his chest. It was the same feeling whenever an unknown subject was about to be named. He slowly spoke, vigilant in his every word. "What do you mean?"

"Because… Kurokocchi is the 'Kurokage,' after all!"

Akashi almost let out a gasp of surprise. To think, that he would encounter the very person he was looking for on the first day– night of his stakeout. Well, that was only to be expected. He was Akashi, after all. Call it pure luck or coincidence, but he knew better.

Everything was set by the most hateful thing in the entire universe.

He inwardly cursed.

Fate was playing with him again.

* * *

"Goddammit, hurry up! Are you a fucking turtle, or what!?" Haizaki cussed as sent an impatient scowl to the bluenette who has been tailing him. His loud voice echoed piercingly throughout the secluded place.

The surrounding was all gray with patches of black– molds which has thrive in the dark, humid place. It was like a secret tunnel from somehere leading to nowhere. The place was scantily and poorly lit, but was enough to discecrn the path to walk on. Not that it was necessary to remember the way. It was like a linear corridor with no ends.

Kuroko just continued boring his gaze on the concrete floor. He felt the trapped cold air blow swiftly against his skin. He had been there a lot of times, but the place was still suffocating… and dreadful.

Haizaki became even more irked when the bluenette didn't give a reply. "Fucker. Just because the boss said I can't kill you, doesn't mean that I won't."

Kuroko was used to the brutal treatment. Haizaki has been like that with him, since the very first time they met. He doesn't know if he had rubbed the gray-haired male's bad side, or if the man was just always that pissy, like a teenage girl during her period, but whatever. He has been through worse– worst, "worsest," if that was even a word– that he doesn't care about the curses Haizaki throws him anymore.

Haizaki continued his swearing, until they reached another metal door.

They had passed a lot of similar doors, but Kuroko knew the door in front of them. Exclusively.

Haizaki clucked, before twisting the knob. He opened the door, revealing the ever so empty interior of the room.

Kuroko squeezed his eye shut in an impulse, when the blinding light hit his vision. He slowly opened them, revealing only a fraction of his sky blue irises, and steadily adjusted his vision.

The inside of the room was plain and unwelcoming. The walls, the floor, and even the ceiling, were of unfinished concrete. There was a black long sofa on the far back, and a rectangular low coffee table in front of it. There were no other openings except for the metal door. There were chains hanging from the ceiling on the left side of the room. As for what their function was, Kuroko doesn't even want to begin recounting. The only decoration that can be considered grand was the crystal chandelier lighting the room. It was a beautiful, intricate design that it seemed very out of place inside the stodgy room.

A dark-skinned man was sitting on the sofa. One of his arms was casually hanging on the back rest, and his legs were boorishly crossed in front of him. His hair was dyed with a standing out silver color. He has a number of piercings on his ears, and one on his lower lip. He was wearing a black leather jacket, which seemed too tight because of his muscular frame, atop a gray V-neck shirt, and a pair of dark baggy trousers. A pair of sunglasses was resting on his nose. He also has golden chained necklace and bracelets hanging on his neck and dangling on his wrists, respectively. His feet were covered with an also black leather boots.

There were also a number of casually dressed men inside the dreary room.

The silver-haired man had an ignorant look, until he noticed his "expected guest" enter the room. He shifted from his position, removing his arm from the backrest.

Haizaki went inside, and moved to give way for the bluenette, an obvious glare still on his face.

Kuroko hesitantly entered, cautiously taking each step as he walked. He felt the droplets of sweat on his temple as they dribbled down, until they dripped to the concrete floor like a detonating time-bomb. He felt his hands tremble as he stopped right in front of the silver-haired man. If he could drive a knife straight into the man's throat, then he definitely would. If he could shot the man directly into his forehead, then he definitely would. If he could strangle the man with his own fingers, until the man begs for him to spare his life, then he definitely would.

However, he can't. He can't, because he is a coward. He can't, because he is weak. He can't because _they_ are the ones who are keeping him alive, and not the other way around.

His expression remained blank, all throughout his internal dilemma. He clutched the brown envelope, clenching his fingers around it tightly as if it was the silver-haired man's neck, before throwing it on the glass table separating him and the man.

The man picked it up, and halfway took out its contents. He licked his index finger once, before gliding them against the bills, counting them one by one. When he was done, he slid the contents back inside the envelope. With a chuckle, he spread his arms back to the sofa's backrest. "Well, we never expected anything big from a puny monkey like him anyway. Heh! Fucking wannabe of a punk!"

The other men inside laughed at the silver-haired man's coarse words.

The man gestured his head, signaling two of his men.

Kuroko felt himself got forcefully held down to his knees. The sudden contact against the rough floor made him wince. He noted inside his head to certainly add the two men holding him down to his hit list, if the unruly treatment ever bruised his knees. His arms were uncomfortably held to his back as he knelt down.

Suddenly, a loud noise erupted from the room, when someone violently kicked the metal door open.

A beaten up man was thrown inside, followed by three other casually dressed men.

The man scampered his way out of the room only to get pulled back by one of the silver-haired man's underlings.

Haizaki closed the door with another click of the tongue as he averted his gaze and glared at the hanging chains. _Totally, fucking, attractive. Yeah._

The silver-haired man stood up from the sofa, and tramped his way towards the held down bluenette. When he was right beside him, he gently petted the latter's teal locks, before harshly gripping them, pulling them back, to forcibly meet his gaze.

Kuroko gritted his teeth at the sudden stung on his scalp. His expression was still neutral, even when the silver-haired man traced the muzzle of his Glock pistol from his collar bone up to his jaw.

The man who was thrown inside was picked up by two other guys, and was forcefully held down into the same position as the bluenette's.

"Motherfucking asshole, let me go or I'll fucking kill you–" The dark-haired man vainly struggled against his captors hold.

Kuroko knew the man. He internally laughed at how stupid and pitiful the other was acting now, when he was being a conceited ass but a few hours ago.

"Still rebellious, aren't we, Tetsuya?" The silver-haired man whispered behind Kuroko's ear.

Kuroko shuddered at the intruding contact. He, honestly, wasn't sure if he could control the bloodlust he had for this man. He wanted to forcibly pull his arms away, then grab the gun from the man, then shoot the man right through the latter's head, before he kills himself.

"You hate this man, right? Then… how about this?" The man signaled for his men to let go of the bluenette arms.

Kuroko almost can't feel his limbs, after having them tautly held behind him. He didn't even feel it at all when the grip of the gun pressed against his palms.

"You hate him after doing _that_ to you, right? You wanted to kill this person, right?" The silver-haired man softly taunted, as he slowly slipped his and Kuroko's right index finger on the gun's trigger.

"N-No…" Kuroko breathed out. "Motherfucker, I will kill you first–" He strongly wriggled his body to try to free himself from the man, but to no avail. His entire body violently trembled as the man slowly raised his arms together with his. _He can't be doing this… The first person that I'll kill will be_ _–_ His vision was starting to get cloudy, his heart pounding loudly inside his chest as he tried to regain control over his body. He was tethering on the edges of hyperventilating as his breath came out in shallow gasps.

"Hahahaha! That's right! That's the face I've been waiting to see," The dark-skinned man's evil laughter resounded inside the room, like an echoing threnody. Like a devil whispering into its prey's ears, he continued. "You wanted to kill _us_ , don't you, Tetsuya. Then, let me show you how to do it," he closed his one eye, and aimed straight to the raven-haired guy's chest.

"N-No–" The man's eyes were pleading.

Kuroko squeezed his eyes shut. He forced his own mind to block his thoughts from whatever was about to happen next.

Then, came a loud bang, and another.

…And another.

Kuroko felt his entire body flinch every time his finger touched the trigger. He hardly bit his lower lip, whenever the horrifying sound came out of the gun, willing himself to not let out a sound, because that would only delight the devil behind him more. That was the very last thing he wanted to do.

"How weak– Took it only three bullets to kill him," the silver-haired man stood up, leaving the bluenette gasping for air as the latter stared at the pistol with an appalled look. "Talk about ho-hum."

Kuroko absentmindedly stared at the gun in his hands. His finger was still on the trigger. He felt the blood rush to his head. _I won't forgive you._ His grip on the gun tightened. _I won't forgive you._ He pointed the gun directly at the dark-skinned man's back. _I won't forgive you!_ He didn't even hesitate when he pulled the trigger, but what came next was what he never expected… and he knew too well that he had lost the game.

Nothing happened.

"Hahahaha!" The silver-haired man bent over as his crude laughter filled the room. "What the fuck! You're really an amusing monkey, Tetsuya!" He steadied himself up, wiping the tears that almost fell from the corners of his eye. "To think, that you would actually do it… Too bad, _he_ knows everything," he completed the way back to the sofa. He victoriously smiled as he spoke. "Lock that shit up," he ordered as he stared down at the bluenette.

Kuroko's grip on the gun loosened, the pistol frightfully clattering on the concrete floor. A harsh tug forced him to stand on his two feet. He hung his head low, his knees felt too weak for him to even stand. The adrenaline which coursed through his body was long gone.

He just _killed_ a man.

The fact still hasn't sunk inside his head. He mechanically tailed the two blurred figures pulling him outside of the room.

"What a fucking asshole," Kuroko heard someone mutter. He wasn't sure who, but it was right before he came out of the door.

He knew where they were taking him. He doesn't even care if they throw him out in the middle of a street, and let a car hit him. Or throw him on the docks, and let himself drown to the deepest parts of the surging waters, so everything could finally end. He doesn't care.

However, he knew that won't happen anytime soon...

They won't kill him just yet.

After all… they still have use for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops– I forgot to mention that all the assholes we ~~love~~ hate will be in this fic. And, yeah, they will still be assholes here. Call me "evil," because I am~
> 
> If you thought Hanamiya was an ass in chapter 3, then you need to see Silver here. If you thought Silver was an ass in this chapter, then you haven't seen how much of an asshole Gold can be.
> 
> Anyway, I wasn't supposed to end everything there, but I noticed that the next chapter will be too short if I didn't. Don't worry, guys, Akashi will save Kuroko soon.
> 
> …But, first, cry with me…


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the hits, comments, kudos, and bookmarks!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed. :3

_Shit._

That was the only thing Akashi could muster to say to himself, after hearing everything slowly fall into place. To think, that he let the guy get away when he was sashaying right under his nose.

 _You've done enough embarrassment to yourself, Seijuurou._ Akashi unconsciously let out an exasperated sigh, messing his scarlet locks with his fingers in the process. Frankly speaking, he expected "Kurokage" to have more presence, since the other seemed to have been working in Kamiwaza for two years. He thought it would appear obvious that the person was involved with the underground dealings in one look, but he didn't get that kind of rotten feeling from the other at all. Heck, the bluenette was like an out of place apparition. Kuroko's appearance was so fragile that Akashi wouldn't risk touching him, because he was afraid that the bluenette would break once he did. Akashi heard Kise sigh. He returned his eyes to the bartender. The other appeared to be worried about something– or someone. Akashi knew. He was so sure who it was.

"Oh, if you don't know who 'Kurokage' is, he's… well, the most designated person here in Kamiwaza," Kise replied as he leaned over the countertop.

"Designated… person?" Akashi echoed with one eyebrow raised. He remained silent. The lapsing seconds urged the other to continue.

The blonde nodded once, and spoke in a hushed manner. "I believe those things aren't legal, but… this is just that kind of place. Kurokocchi, he… No matter how many times I advise him to stop, he just won't," Kise glanced at the dark hallway where Kuroko was taken. "I know he wanted to, but he just won't. Kurokocchi's really hard to understand," he huffed. He stood straight, before stretching his back.

Akashi thought precisely the same. It was as if life was escaping out of the bluenette like a gradually diffusing smoke, but the other was fighting and keeping himself intact. It was strange how the Kuroko's eyes looked so lifeless, but when Akashi noticed the tightly clenched fists, he internally debated otherwise. He noted how contradicting Kuroko could be. The bluenette is a complexity that he can't comprehend in a single glance. It was a first for Akashi to be this… incapable in performing something so simple.

Akashi stood up from the stool, and gave Kise an appreciative smile. He took out his wallet, and was about to pay, when the blonde stopped him.

"Tonight, it was on the house, Ogino-kun. I hope you enjoyed your night!" Kise sheepishly grinned. "Though, I was quite privy… Anyway, I hope to see you again soon!"

"The margarita was truly delectable," Akashi curtly nodded. "I will surely comeback to have another glass. Thank you," he said. He turned to his heels, and proceeded to exit the club. His nose perked at the distinct smell on the air, when he passed by one of the black sofas on his way out. _Weed._

Surely, he needs to _weed out_ the prime mover behind the case. Anon. A smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

He decided his first step will be **him**.

From the bar counter, Kise discreetly observed the redhead. He watched Akashi with vigilant eyes as the other trod his way to the exit. The bartender let out a small, inaudible gasp as he noticed a strange occurrence fall before him. Though, he wasn't sure if it was just his vision playing with him, or because of the flashing lights. His topaz orbs slightly narrowed at the retreating redhead. "Gold…" a murmur escaped his lips, but it soon died down as the blaring sound swallowed his voice up.

* * *

The concrete floor felt biting and damp against his skin.

The room was dingy, save for the small barred window on one of the walls which casted the shadow of the lambent moon inside. The only sound that can be heard was the droplets of liquid coming from the uncovered pipes overhead– protruding on the ceiling.

Kuroko curled up his body on one of the corners of the small room. He hugged his knees to his chest, and hid his head as if secluding himself from his surroundings. He quivered as the earlier episode flooded his mind– the feel of the grip of the gun on his palm; the stiff touch as his index finger got connected to the trigger; the blood-curdling sound of the shots he had fired; and the sharp, burnt smell of gunpowder filling his nose.

He had just killed a person.

The conclusion still didn't sit well in his stomach… Not that he thought it ever will.

Truthfully speaking, he despised Hanamiya, but not to the point of killing him– or even of wanting him dead. He may have wanted the raven-hair to get punished, but not on the way the guy met his end. Still and all, it was already too late. He couldn't do anything about it anymore, except will his thoughts to die down– to forget. After all, that was the only thing he was good at. That was the only thing he could do.

Silver was fond of inflicting emotional punishments. Sometimes, the guy would forcibly give him drugs, and mess with his mind, suggesting horrible ideas like him being the one at fault for the death of his family. Maybe, he really was. Unfortunately, he can't even remember their faces any longer. Not that he had lost his memory of them. He just decided to forget about them. And forget he did, owing to the fact that they were the ones at fault for his current situation. Or so, he had been told.

If only his parents didn't create that drug. If only his parents weren't the greedy bastards they were, when they were still alive. If only his parents listened to him, and chose to continue living their once peaceful life, instead of money.

None of these should've happened to him. None of these should have happened to them.

They would still be comfortably sitting on the outdoor patio before the verdant gardens of their small manor. They would still be having afternoon teatimes together. They would still be comfortably spending the cold nights in front of the fireplace inside their cozy living room.

His memories weren't that accurate, but he knew he did live in that kind of place. He knew he had that kind of family. However, he also knew that he can't go back to those times anymore. Those peaceful times were long gone, and had times ago slipped out of his grasps. He couldn't return. Not until he had killed, with his own hands, the ones culpable– the ones responsible for the miserable life he has been living. And, maybe, after that, he can also finally lay to rest.

He was tired… of everything.

* * *

.

.

.

The bright lights tens of feet under– overlooked by the large windows of a tower block– made the city glow softly yet lively, showering the night with life.

Inside one of the dwelling units of the apartment complex, a man grunted as he scratched his head, and shuffled on the bed. A short dream of the past disrupted his sleep. It was unpleasantly pleasant. It was a good dream to have, but having it at the moment wasn't. He groped for his mobile phone on the empty space of the bed beside him. The small blinking light instantaneously notified him. He saw 12 unread messages as he unlocked the screen. He didn't bother checking them, for he already knew what they were about. He browsed through his contacts, his thumb repeatedly sliding on the screen of his phone as he searched for the sender's name. As soon as he found what– who he was looking for, he pressed the name, and made the call. It took only three rings, before the call got connected.

The loud sound was present from the other end, though, it was incomprehensible. More so, with the drowsy state he was in. The person on the other line appeared to be in a place sequestered away from loud music, but the noise still wasn't completely muted.

"Did he come?" He groggily asked, his voice coming out in a raspy manner. Despite him setting it to the lowest level of brightness, the light from the phone against his ear made him almost click his tongue in irritation. His eyes were too tired and had already settled with the darkness, causing the sudden rush of light within the pitch-black room to be truly annoying.

" _Yeah. Don't worry, I only told him what I know,"_ the person from the other line replied. The voice was a bit wary, almost like a whisper, but from the way it sounded, it was obvious the person on the other end was also a man.

"How about him?" He asked, a hint of worry lacing his words. It was very unlikely of him to be concerned about someone, but _he_ was important to him– to _them_. _He_ might not know it, because being kind was as natural to _him_ as breathing, but _he_ was the reason _they_ were still alive. Partly, as it may be, but _he_ was a pivotal existence to _their_ lives.

" _I'm worried…"_ The other answered in a voice that, again, was almost a whisper.

He didn't answer, and just let the silent seconds pass. He knew. _He_ was already messed up when he met _him_ , and when the _other_ also did. He blamed himself for not being able to protect _him_ , but he knew it wasn't the right time to wallow in self-blame. This time, his life wasn't entirely centered only to himself.

" _I think… I think he's getting worse. Is there nothing we can do?"_ The shaky voice coming from the phone's speaker radiated a familiar warmth inside his chest.

"We aren't even sure yet if he's involved, or if he's just being used," he replied. A thin blanket partially covered his lower half as he sat on the bed with his left leg crossed and the other prodded upwards.

" _I still believe it's the latter,"_ the other briefly answered.

The audible conviction from the other person's voice sent a small smile across his lips, but it soon curved down into a frown. He slid his fingers to his hair."He's the one who gave him the drug, isn't he?" He replied with a question. This fact, he was truly sure about. There were evidences. And, he knew from his experience that evidences don't lie. _Unless they were fraudulent…_ _or planted_ , his mind countered.

" _But–"_ The other attempted to disapprove, but was cut off.

"Of his own free will," he reminded. Every word was spoken so firmly that it was almost as if they were each meant to be said as a sentence.

" _Whose side are you even on?"_ A sigh came from the other line. _"He's a really kind person, when you get to know him. I don't think he would just do it. How sure are you that he was the one who gave him the drug?"_ There was a challenging tone on the other's question.

 _I know about that, of course. Though, sometimes, in this world, even kindness doesn't appear as genuine as it should be… He, on the other hand, is different. I know that._ "His fingerprints were on the bottle we found on the victim's apartment," he calmly answered. The findings were on point. This he can't brush off.

" _What if it was planted by someone else? What if he just touched it by mistake? They were close, after all,"_ the other pressed on, not backing down even a bit on his one-sided belief. After all, _he_ was also important to the other person.

"You know, I still don't know if you're stupid or pretending to be stupid," he mocked with a light titter.

" _I would honestly prefer to be the latter,"_ the other replied with an obviously troubled sigh.

"I still love you, whichever you are," he said, a smile evident from the way he spoke.

"Oh, please…" The reply from the other end of the line came as a shy mutter.

Another pleased grin ran across his lips. "Anyway, continue observing him. Also, phone me up if he comes again."

" _Why are we even just observing him? We can–"_

He pressed the "end call" button on his phone. He flopped down to his bed, and covered his head with a pillow. He truly missed hearing the voice. He was glad he got to hear it tonight. He closed his eyes, and let the darkness creep in his consciousness once more. As he drifted, he knew he will finally have a restful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

.

.

.

"........."

From inside a restroom stall somewhere in Tokyo, a man almost threw his phone straight into the water closet. "You dare hang up on me!?" He exclaimed in annoyance, startling the person quietly relieving himself inside the cubicle next to his. He stomped his feet as the beeping sound of an ended call resounded inside the comfort station. With an unamused frown, he pulled the door close, and returned to his post with a black look. After having his regular action point intentionally ignored, he was sure he would be awake all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our internet connection has been crappy for two weeks and a half now. I can't write and edit properly, because of it. And it sucks that I only have a week left until our classes resume. Kill me now.
> 
> Don't worry, guys. Akashi will help his husband _soon_...


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for supporting this fic!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed. :3

_Vivid red puddles were staining the checkered floor. The black and white porcelain tiles had been dyed with the liquid of life._

_His line of sight trailed on the shattered pieces of clear glass which were strewn all over floor. He knew it came from the smashed window in front of him. The sharp broken ends of the window were unstable, and small, cracked pieces of glass were still toppling to the tiled floor. He felt cold sweat dribble down his back as his eyes returned to the blood splatters under his feet. He knelt down, and touched something. It was soft and warm. He felt a painful tug in his chest as he stood up. He hastily ran out of the room, his hand holding something warm again– something familiar– something he knew but couldn’t remember. He heard someone whisper his name. He hated his own name, but, right now, it sounded like a comforting melody to his ears. As he looked back, he almost fell over as he was pulled by his shirt. Suddenly, he felt warmth flood his lips._

_“I’m sorry…”_

_He felt a strong push to his chest, causing him to lose his balance. He violently gasped. He was falling. He reached out his hand as he sank through the darkness. Behind him were depths upon depths of shadows. He screamed out a name. Then, there was a loud explosion from one of the levels above him, followed by falling debris which battled to catch up to his freely falling body. He wasn’t exactly sure where it came from, but his mind suggested something dreadful. It came from the place where he had been pushed. He screamed out a name again._

_Soon after that, he felt his body hit something cold and hard– with enough force to dislocate a few of his joints. He knew he had broken some of his bones from the fall. Maybe, he had finally reached the bottom. He wasn’t sure. His consciousness began to fade as smoke obscured his vision. There was something sticky and warm dripping on the back of his head, and even from a few parts of his body. More cuts and bruises littered his skin. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t shout for help. He couldn’t scream the name._

_Whose name was it again? He silently wondered._

_His mind was in an utter chaos as he struggled to remain conscious. He has to call for help, or they’ll die. Though, he was having second thoughts whether he could survive his current situation or not. It was a do or die, and the person with him earlier chose the former for him. His last thoughts were about that person picking the latter choice to save him._

_A life in exchange for another life._

_He just hoped that he wasn’t right this time._

* * *

Scarlet orbs were uncloaked as Akashi’s eyelids fluttered open. He looked at the alarm clock on the night stand before his face.

05:59 AM

He groaned as he sat up while rubbing his eyes. As he moved to the side of the bed, the alarm clock went off and began ringing. He clicked his tongue as he mechanically pressed the button with his hand, and turned it off. He did it again– beating the alarm clock to the last minute… or seconds, probably.

Akashi wasn’t pleased. There was still some lingering somnolence in his system. He felt lightheaded as he dressed himself up and descended the stairs like a programmed automaton. Again, the door to his bedroom was left open. He was known for having the lowest blood pressure a person could ever have. It wasn’t exactly a good thing. It was an exaggeration, but his symptoms were far, far severe than the common hypotension. Not that he would let it hinder with his impeccable work. Still, he wasn’t entirely fond of racing with time against a fucking alarm clock. He wanted to get every seconds of sleep he deserves. He needed it.

As he was having his breakfast, he wondered if he should also visit Kamiwaza later that night. He also went to the club last night, but his target wasn’t there. He was lucky enough to meet him on the first night he decided to do a stakeout. He believed wishing for something more won’t hurt, so he took the gamble. He was hoping to spot the bluenette, and, maybe, have a few chats with him or something. He wanted to interrogate the other as soon as possible, but he doesn’t want Kuroko to become suspicious of him. His prey had escaped him once. He doesn’t want to repeat the same mistake for a second time. As he munched on the sandwich, he wondered how the bluenette could be so elusive.

Yes. Kuroko has a very low presence, but Akashi thought it was unimaginable for the MPD to lack such basic information regarding someone as well-known as the Kurokage.

The thought of having a mole in the office still doesn’t sit well inside Akashi’s stomach. He knew it wouldn’t ever sit well inside his stomach. _Shall I ask the Superintendent about it?_ He inwardly presented the idea to himself, but he also knew that it wouldn’t be wise to be boldly cognizant of such an important matter.

Akashi trusts Nijimura, but he doesn’t trust the people around the raven-haired director. He knew that Nijimura was a good judge of character, but, sometimes, different cases tend to drive things the wrong way. And those times weren’t a good thing at all.

Shaking the thought off, Akashi stood up to wash the dishes. After doing so, he picked up his leather messenger bag, and carefully put the files and documents he had gathered inside it.

Throwing a nugatory “I’m off” to his shoulder, he left his apartment. He took his casual morning walk to Division 1’s office with a troubled mind. It was one problem after another.

* * *

The trip to the MPD was uneventful, as usual, save for the black cat Akashi came across with as he was crossing the street earlier. He didn’t put much thought into it. He hardly believed in superstitions. Unfounded beliefs, to him, were next to an illusion created by a human’s own mind to satisfy themselves. Though, he wasn’t also entirely a realist.

Akashi sat to his swivel chair and took out the files Aomine gave him the other day. He flipped the pages to the last one. His eyes darted to the only information on the paper which caught his interest.

Alias: Kurokage  
Real name: Unknown  
Gender: Male (based on witness’ accounts)  
Height: Unknown  
Weight: Unknown  
Appearance: No description available. Works at Kamiwaza for 2 years (information regarding said person is unverified).

He plucked a red push-action ballpoint pen from the canister on his table. He proceeded to write down the particulars he had gathered on the empty space below the initial details regarding the bluenette.

 _Alias: Kurokage_  
Real name: Kuroko Tetsuya  
Gender: Male

Akashi’s hand stopped as he measured Kuroko’s height from what he could remember the night before last. He appeared to be a bit shorter than him. Akashi, himself, stands at 173 cm. He wasn’t tall, yet he also wasn’t that short. “Average” might be the right word to use, but he doesn’t want to label himself in such a run-of-the-mill way. He began writing again.

 _Height:_ _roughly 165 - 170 cm_

Kuroko also appeared to be close to Akashi’s own weight which is 64 kg.

 _Weight:_ _roughly 55 – 60 kg_

Honestly, Akashi wasn’t fond of estimates. He wanted to be as accurate as possible, but he doesn’t have the ability to measure a person’s height and weight in a single glance. He wasn’t that inhuman to do something extraordinary like that.

He still wonders how Aomine could find out a woman’s cup size in a single glance. He also wonders where Aomine uses such a useless ability.

 _Appearance:_ _Light blue hair and eyes. Pale complexion. Around his 20’s based on his appearance. Deep, blank gaze. Dresses rather inappropriate._

Akashi wasn’t sure if he should add that last information, though he had already written it. Kuroko could have been dressing that way only at night. He decided to scratch it out in the end, and proceeded to write the primary connections he had learned about the bluenette.

_Works at Kamiwaza for 2 years. In close relation with Ogiwara Shigehiro (11 th victim) and Kagami Taiga (discovered Ogiwara’s body)_

It was repetitive, Akashi thought, but it lessens up the time it would take reviewing the profile. He leaned his body to the chair’s backrest. Be that as it may, it still wasn’t enough. There were still unfilled holes in the data he currently has. It brought about another wave of unanswered questions inside his head.

_Who was the one controlling the strings behind the dealings? What was the bluenette’s role in this case?_

Akashi knew the bluenette was involved. He doesn’t understand how it came across him, but his intuition was always right on point. And, lastly, _who is Kurokage?_

_Who is the person named Kuroko Tetsuya?_

As Akashi was deep in his own thoughts, a forced cough broke through his sharp concentration.

The person clucked, before throwing a folder on Akashi’s table. “New intel,” the voice was irritable and unwelcoming.

Akashi raised his head. His eyes slightly widened when he saw the person standing before him.

The person was a man with average height and build. He has medium-length gray hair. His also gray-colored eyes may appear blank, but he was openly looking down at Akashi. By this, one will know of the person’s audacious temperament.

Akashi acknowledged the man’s signature look of aversion. “Mayuzumi-san,” he greeted with a smile, despite the other raining down antagonizing looks at him. “It’s only 10:07 am, yet you already look rather… displeased.”

Mayuzumi Chihiro is one of the coroners of the MPD’s Forensic Science Center. Despite the man’s exemplary skills in performing his work, he was, unfortunately, most of the times assigned to assist the Major Crimes Department. That means seeing Akashi’s face three to four times in a single week, and it wasn’t a good thing at all, especially when you hate the redhead’s guts down to its roots that you pray every night that it was his lifeless body you will be examining next.

There was a big case in the past– during Akashi’s second week in the MPD– where Mayuzumi has to work with the department for a whole week. Mayuzumi named it the “Hell Week” of his life, since he began working. The title wasn’t because it was a hard case. Well, it was, but he called it “hell,” because Akashi was there. Anywhere with Akashi Seijuurou equated to hell.

Mayuzumi huffed. “Who wouldn’t be displeased, when the Superintendent phones you up while celebrating the time of your life, after having your week-long vacation finally approved? Well, guess who? Not me.” He folded his arms to his chest, and looked daggers to the door of Nijimura’s office.

Akashi internally agreed. He understood the feeling all too well. Nijimura does whatever he pleased, and the raven-hair can actually do it, completely unmindful about other peoples’ opinions. He also let Mayuzumi’s cussing slip, because the man was known for his sharp tongue. Not that Akashi hated it.

Mayuzumi’s bluntness was one of his redeeming qualities. Though, it wasn’t always a good habit to have.

“He ordered me to immediately give that to you, and just tell you those two words. Is that some sort of code? I do think it’s a crappy one. Tell him to think of something new,” Mayuzumi continued, the distinct grit remaining in his voice.

“And this is?” Akashi asked as he picked up the folder.

“How about you fucking read it first, before asking me?” Mayuzumi sarcastically replied. The dark bags under the coroner’s eyes hinted Akashi that the other might’ve just pulled an all-nighter or two, which only added a heap of pissy fondant to Mayuzumi’s already crude personality. The disheveled lab gown also confirmed the redhead’s supposition.

Akashi’s hand visibly twitched, but he fought to maintain his composure. He did as Mayuzumi said. “Hanamiya Makoto?” He unconsciously mumbled. He knew the name. There was no way he would mistake it for someone else’s. It was one of the persons involved with his first big case in the MPD. What made him widen his eyes in surprise was that the person was still alive… or WAS alive.

Mayuzumi looked sideways as he clicked his tongue. “Yeah. The bastard seemed to have faked his death,” he said, disgruntled. “To think, that the body his family buried was someone else’s. What a fucker.”

Akashi continued reading.

[ _Cause of death: Gunshot wound to the heart. Possibly, cardial tamponade._

_The victim sustained three gunshot wounds:_

  1. _lower right abdomen;_
  2. _left pulmonary hilum;_
  3. _chest_ – _damaging the victim’s pericardial sac._



_Drug traces were also found in the victim’s system. Initial composition tests state that the drug found was Yellow Diamond._ ]

 _Yellow Diamond._ Akashi repeated inside his head. Mayuzumi might’ve been the one who performed the autopsy on the other victims, since the coroner already knew about the narcotic. That might also be the reason why Nijimura chose Mayuzumi to do the autopsy. “Why do you have this?” He knew he asked the wrong question. It was as clear as day that Mayuzumi was working on the Medical Examiner Office.

“Obviously, I was given this fucking case. And, just in case you forgot after hitting your head on your way to this place or something, which I believe is highly improbable, may I remind you that I work on the FBO?” Mayuzumi answered with an odd look pointed towards Akashi. “If you don’t even know what the FBO stands for, it’s the Forensic Biology Office.”

Okay. That didn’t go well.

Akashi cleared his throat. “What I mean is how did you know about this case?”

“I did tell you that the Superintendent called me while I was on leave, didn’t I? He asked me to fucking perform an autopsy at 3-fucking-AM yesterday, and demanded a result right away. Post-mortem examinations are best performed within 24 hours of death. We all know that. But, can you believe it that he fucking called me the very minute the body was discovered, and demanded that I fly immediately from Amsterdam back to Tokyo?” Mayuzumi said, his voice almost a growl. “The ungrateful bastard,” he inaudibly mumbled.

Akashi was sure he heard Mayuzumi add something else, but he just brushed it off. He knew it was something irrelevant. More curses, maybe. The point right now was that there was a new victim, but the cause of death this time wasn’t the drug itself. _Was he silenced?_ Akashi questioned inside his head. _Hanamiya might know something about the drug, and that was the reason he was killed. However, wasn’t this the first time someone was murdered? Was it necessary for them to silence him? Or was the idea something that just abruptly came up? The bullet wounds weren’t consistent._

“Oi. Just because I have a low presence doesn’t mean that you can treat me like a ghost,” Mayuzumi’s voice pierced through Akashi’s thoughts once more.

“I apologize. Thank you for the report, Mayuzumi-san,” Akashi said, cueing Mayuzumi to leave. The man’s work was already done, for now. Mayuzumi wasn’t supposed to be involved in the case any deeper than how he currently was.

Mayuzumi sent Akashi a look of disbelief, and mouthed a “What the fuck?” At first, he was sure Akashi would ask him more about Hanamiya’s fake corpse which they had identified before. He was one of the coroners who performed the examination after all. There were three of them, and they all made the confirmation that it was indeed Hanamiya’s body. But, nah. Whatever. As long as he doesn’t spend another minute in the redhead’s presence, then everything was good. _You know what? I'm fucking done with you all._ He resigned in his thoughts. He deeply breathed, and turned his back to Akashi. “Then, best fucking wishes. I’m taking another one-week leave, and no. Don’t even attempt to contact me again or you’ll find yourselves on the stainless steel autopsy bed of my examination room.” He walked away, waving his hand in the air. _So long, suckers._

The revelation about Hanamiya’s body might have hurt Mayuzumi’s pride, so Akashi decided to just let the other be.

If the media finds out about the information, the MPD will surely be met with another crisis, after the Kirisaki Daiichi case. The news regarding the case still hasn’t completely died down, since it happened only almost three weeks ago. It was a multiple lynching case which had happened as an authorization to join the Kirisaki Daiichi gang. Ten deaths were initially reported, including the group’s brain– Hanamiya Makoto’s. Four died during the actual lynching, while the remaining six were caused by an explosion, when the gang leaders attempted to make their escape. Unfortunately two of the prime movers died– or were thought to be dead. Hanamiya Makoto and Hara Kazuya. Four other bodies were still missing. There still weren’t any clue up to now regarding the location of those bodies.

Akashi heaved a sigh as he closed the file. His gaze moved to Aomine’s desk which was unoccupied. The tanned cop doesn’t appear to know something yet, but he is one of _them_ , so he might have some information hidden under his sleeves. However, the thought of giving Aomine the third degree didn’t cross his mind. It was a job given to different people, and Akashi won’t lose to _them_ , even if they were all working for the same cause.

* * *

In the end, the redhead decided to pay Nijimura another visit.

Akashi knocked on the Superintendent’s office. He has been constantly dropping by the place this week. When he opened the door, he saw Nijimura standing with his back faced to him.

The raven-haired director was gazing outside the window of his office. He has a solemn look plastered on his face which only accentuated his strict features. When he heard the click of the door, he turned to face Akashi. His expression remained the same. Though, his light gray eyes appeared to be a few shades darker, and his appearance was austere and reserved. “I know what you came here for, and I won’t beat around the bush, Akashi.”

Akashi walked a few steps closer to get a better look of his superior. His expression was also unyielding. He doesn’t want to hear the next words that’ll come out of Nijimura’s mouth. It was legitimately out of the question, but Nijimura’s look told him otherwise.

Nijimura let a few seconds pass, before continuing. He inhaled deeply and let his breath out to the same extent that it almost sounded like a dragged sigh. “I might have welcomed a renegade agent under my wing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Mayuzumi, okay? XD I apologize for the OOC-ness and all the mistakes in this chapter.
> 
> I can’t believe I survived the first week of hell– aka first week of my last year studying! I’m not yet sure if I will be updating this every Friday or Saturday, because our schedule still isn’t fixed. But, anyway, I’m so happy I finally got the time to write again! TvT)9 Like… I already have the climax chapter of this fic, but I still haven’t finished writing what comes in between. Anyway, see you next week!
> 
> … I guess?


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed. :3

The sound of the metal door clanging against the floor as it grazed the hard ground was what greeted the bluenette. He reluctantly cracked his eyes open as the smallest bit of light made its way to his face. He was too enervated to even will them open, but something in the back of his mind told him that he needed to, or he would regret not doing so. So, he did, griping slightly. What hailed his day first were the streaks of radiance which wormed their way from the barred window. He missed it. However, it was too much for his liking. After being locked up inside the drab room for two consecutive nights and days, his vision has comfortably gotten used to the darkness that he found the light to be quite irritating. He carefully shut his eyes again, quietly grumbling while he waited for his vision to settle and return to normal.

“Oi! You’re getting out,” the familiar voice crassly yelled, followed by a single click of the tongue.

With a sigh, Kuroko slowly got up to his feet, each movement done ever so carefully, so as not to waste the measly amount of energy remaining in his body. His limbs felt numb. It was only to be expected, after having slept on the cold concrete floor for two nights without even the thinnest piece of blanket to protect him. He might’ve caught pneumonia if he wasn’t used to the nippy temperature. It was one of the good things on his pile of unpleasantries. After all, he had already lost count of the number of nights he had spent in the very same room. 

The trip back to the world outside wasn’t as long as the one he had the other night. It took only a few minutes. Though, to be honest, it was still as nerve-wracking as his other trips. He was trying his best not to lose consciousness while walking. Famished and parched were understatements to describe how he was feeling, at the moment. He was even leaning against the concrete wall, his palms on the concrete surface for support, just so he could properly walk.

Haizaki didn’t even bat an eye, despite having known the bluenette’s incapacitated condition.

Kuroko swallowed his saliva, coating his throat with the liquid, so he could speak. He expected his voice to come out gravelly, and it did. “Haizaki-kun, what happened to Hanamiya-san?” He asked, his voice a low whisper. Though, it was audible, because of the thick, secluded walls.

Haizaki spared the bluenette a single glance over his shoulder, before returning his head forward in a mere split second. “As if I care for a bastard like that thick eyebrows. Silver must’ve ordered the guys to throw his corpse somewhere,” he replied, not even a tinge of sympathy in his voice.

 _Body…_ The gray-haired man’s answer just confirmed his fears. He nibbled on his lower lip as he let Haizaki’s words sink inside his head. He inwardly made the confirmation, himself. _So, he’s really dead… I did kill him. I did… didn’t I?_ He could feel his palpitating heartbeat as he hesitantly replied. “I… see…” His breath shook as he spoke.

Haizaki made a low guttural noise, before heaving a peeved sigh. His tone was neither comforting, nor was it rude. It was plain couldn’t-care-less. “What’s this? Are you thinking that you killed the asshole? Last time I checked you aren’t this pathetic, Tetsuya.”

Kuroko’s eyes slightly widened at the mention of his first name. He wasn’t sure if Haizaki was consoling him. The very idea of the other doing that was close to impossible. No. It was totally legitimately, in all actuality, impossible. He squinted his eyes to the floor, his mind replaying the feel of the gun in his palms– when he pointed it to Silver– followed by the wave of determination he had felt as he aimed it to rob the man of his life, and the surge of misery which came next, after he had decisively pulled the trigger to hear only the frustrating click of the unloaded barrel.

Haizaki looked over his shoulder once more, which Kuroko didn’t notice, because he was too busy mulling over himself. As fast as he did that, he returned his eyes back to the path ahead. “That red-haired newbie was looking for you.”

Kuroko was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard Haizaki speak. “Who?” He asked.

“’Who?’” Haizaki echoed, drawing in a breath as if Kuroko just asked him something utterly unheard of. “It’s obviously Taiga, dumbass,” he spat.

Kuroko could almost see the scowl on Haizaki’s face, despite having the other’s back turned to him. He pursed his lips together as he continued chewing over himself. _Of course, it’s Kagami-kun._ It surprised him that the first thing that came into his mind, when Haizaki mentioned the word “red-haired,” was the ferreting about male he had just met when he went to see Kise. _Ogino-kun, was it?_ Maybe, he got too affected, when the other almost said his late best friend’s name? He clasped his fingers together as he brooded on. He found the guy overly suspicious, to be honest. It was like the man knew something about him which he, himself, might not know. Ogino has a way with words, despite the other only talking to him for a few minutes. It wasn’t even considered “talking,” at all– as far as his definition of the word goes.

As they reached the personnel quarters, Haizaki pulled out a clean set of clothes from his locker. They were shoddily folded, but he could care less. He threw it to Kuroko, which the bluenette caught with awkward surprise. Haizaki, the scowl never leaving his face, tipped his head to the shower room’s direction.

It was a silent order which Kuroko instantly understood. He was thankful that Haizaki even bothered to prepare him a change of clothes, and let him wash himself. His skin felt sore, and his hair was greasy and was sticking up on all sides. He has been hankering for a warm shower, the moment he stepped out of that small room. He washed himself as fast as he could, and dressed himself similarly.

After a few minutes, Haizaki led Kuroko to the backdoor of the club. The establishment wasn’t open yet, and the others still weren’t even preparing for the night. Haizaki reached for the door handle, hotly glowering at the metal sphere.

Kuroko went outside.

“I recommend you eat first, before you work. You look like a fucking zombie to my eyes,” he suggested, aggravated, before shoving a purse to the bluenette. “Not that I fucking care if you die on the street,” Haizaki added as he pulled the door close with much force that Kuroko thought the hinges would get splintered.

Kuroko groaned, before teetering away from the place. Agreeing to Haizaki’s suggestion, he decided that it was better to eat out first. When he opened the pouch, he spotted some folded bills left inside. He also saw a familiar transparent bottle inside the pouch. He felt his entire body went cold. The aftereffects of the warm shower from just a few minutes ago were gone. The thought of having something that deplorable in his possession almost made him vomit the remaining contents of his empty stomach– if there were even any left. He hurriedly zipped the pouch close, and put it down, away from his sight. He made a step. Once. Twice. Thrice. Soon, he found himself walking so fast, he didn’t even know where he got the strength to do so.

The lively clamors on the street died as swift as his movements.

He passed by a two-way glass window as he continued his aimless trip. He took notice of his own features– the paleness of his skin, the terror-stricken look he has, the quivering of his lips. He averted his terrified gaze, and pursed his lips into a thin line. The slight twinge as his teeth grinded against his inner lip was benumbed. As he darted away from the place, he wondered if someone from inside the establishment had seen him. _Why am I doing this to myself?_ He asked himself. He was running so fast. He totally forgot the emptiness of his stomach. The fact that he hasn’t eaten for two days instantly fled his mind. He has his eyes close all the time that he wasn’t even sure where he was going– not that he has a particular place in mind, anyway. Suddenly, he felt himself bump against someone. The collision sent him to his rear, and the pouch he was tightly holding flying some feet away. He hurriedly scooted over to pick it up. Just when he was about to touch the small packet, he felt a touch on his right shoulder. He flinched at the sudden contact, but still continued to pick up the pouch. The touch became a tight grip. He hugged the pouch close to his chest with his head hung low. _I’ve been found._ Slowly, he turned his face to the person behind him. He did his best to wear his usual emotionless mask.

Guess, he needed to put off eating for now.

From a distance a man was watching the unwarranted contact between the bluenette and the other person. With a newspaper on his hands, he hid his face quite adeptly– just enough to get a load of the scene before him without attracting anybody’s attention.

When Kuroko stood up, the man looked down to the papers, pretending to read an article, before peering over the bluenette again. And as the Kuroko walked away with the other, the man also made his step, tailing them, keeping track of the two’s every movement.

* * *

 

Kuroko didn’t exactly feel helpless. In point of fact, his thoughts were disorganized, and that was what was keeping him from responding. His back was against the wall. It was the usual scenario he had been too tired of long ago.

“Hey, you have it, don’t you, Kurokage-san?” The man tauntingly asked in a flirty manner, before popping the bubble he had blown from the gum he has been chewing on. He conspicuously slipped one of his hands behind Kuroko’s waist, and pulled the bluenette, bringing Kuroko closer to him.

Despite the small distance separating their faces, Kuroko couldn’t completely see the man’s features at all. The fringes of the man’s messy purple hair were covering the other’s eyes. He slightly shifted his body as the coldness of the concrete wall scraped against his back. The shirt he was wearing wasn’t that thick, and the sweat on his back only stressed the barely cold weather.

“Nee~ Kurokage-san, where is it?” The man pressed harder against him as a disappointed pout pulled the corner of his lips. He was now staring Kuroko down with his eyes.

Kuroko reluctantly lifted his head to meet the other’s gaze. A silent gasp escaped his lips when he finally took notice of the other’s eyes, which were exiguously visible in between the strands of the man’s bangs. Though, the only thing Kuroko could see was the other’s dilated pupil, and a small portion of the other’s bloodshot sclera. Kuroko shivered. He knew the man was under the influence of the very same drug that took his best friend’s life. However, he doesn’t knew who the man in front of him was, so he has completely no idea about where and how the man got hold of the drug. From the looks of the other’s obsession to the drug, he knew that he was nearing his late stages of addiction. Suddenly, he heard the swift sound of a blade getting pulled, followed by a muffled thunk to the ground.

“If you won’t give it to me, then…” The man licked the smooth surface of the blade, before tracing a wicked grin on his mouth. “I’ll take it from you myself~” He strongly pressed his left arm to Kuroko’s chest as he played with the knife using his right hand. With a smirk he brought it over the side of the bluenette’s neck.

The cool touch of the metal against Kuroko’s skin made him wince. Bit by bit, he felt the sharp blade’s force to his neck, and from the warm feeling that slid past his collar bone, he knew that a bruise has already formed, and that he was bleeding. His words came out as a broken gasp. “I-It’s–” He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to form coherent words to speak. However, the other doesn’t appear to be listening to him. The man’s mind was too set on having the drug.

Addiction can make people lose track of whatever they were doing. The psychedelic substance can make one dissociative and delirious, sending their consciousness into a trance caused by their own minds in the form of hallucinations.

Kuroko briefly remembered the night Ogiwara passed away.

The chestnut-haired barista, during his last moments, looked peaceful as his eyes slowly dropped close. He was looking at Kuroko in his half-conscious state, as if he had seen a paragon of virtue, as life gradually dissipated from his body. The smile on his lips appeared loose-fittingly genuine and unseemly, compared to his battered condition.

Kuroko tried his best not to cry as he held his friend’s hand with his. The last thing he wanted the other to feel was sadness... and hurt.

Ogiwara had been through a lot.

Kuroko forced himself to smile as he waited for life to completely leave his friend’s body. Not soon after that, Ogiwara’s hand went limp and cold within his own. His lack of presence may have been a good thing, since he successfully made his escape right after he tendered his friend a silent goodbye. He stood up, and left Ogiwara’s body like nothing happened. That wasn’t right. He knew that. But, he still has a lot of things in his hands, and getting caught, definitely, wouldn’t be to his advantage. He had taken Ogiwara’s phone with him as he walked away, and dialed Kagami’s number. The call was answered shortly, after three rings. He immediately hung up as the attempt was picked up, and subconsciously filed the phone away into his pocket as he fled the scene. It was a good thing that Kagami had just returned from buying ingredients, and was on his way back to the club.

Kuroko’s reminiscing ended when his mind registered the sharp twinge on his neck. _This isn’t the right time to indulge myself with recollecting the past._ He inwardly shook his head.

The man was desperate in getting the drug. He was sweating all over, and his breathing came out in shallow pants.

Kuroko knew the man would do anything to soothe the burning ache on his chest as a sign of withdrawal– even if that meant killing. He was about to finally give the man the contents of the pouch Haizaki gave him, when he felt a sudden impact separate the two of them. The next thing he heard was the grating sound of metal as it spun to the ground, followed by a loud thud.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit early to be killing someone out in the open?” Someone incongruously asked in the middle of Kuroko’s internal dilemma.

The voice made Kuroko flinch in surprise. He hugged the pouch closer to his chest as he heard the sound of meticulous footsteps advance towards him. _What is he doing here!?_ His thoughts went back to the complacent smile and smooth, distinct voice from two nights ago. His clutch on the pouch went even tighter as he searched the corners of his mind for means of escape. However, he was too late. The gods must have cursed him that day. When he raised his head, the presumptuous man was already standing right in front of him.

The man’s countenance was as smug and striking as he had remembered.

“It’s nice to see you again, Kuroko-kun,” the other’s sensual voice sounded intoxicating as it reached his ears.

It was odd, Kuroko thought. He was at a loss for words, so he just swallowed thickly in apprehension. Kuroko decided to drop his gaze down to the concrete ground, underneath his feet, as he did his best to remain as impassive as he could. Though, that seemed to be a futile endeavor, in the end. “N-Not really what you’d call ‘nice,’ when I was about to die, Ogino-san,” he stuttered a reply. He frowned, because he had almost bitten his tongue as he spoke.

Akashi’s laughter resounded on the backstreet. It was strangely inappropriate– the setting, the timing, everything.

Kuroko felt a wave of uneasiness cast itself upon his chest. He gulped. He hugged the pouch tightly to his chest as if doing that would make him disappear.

Akashi turned to his side, and approached the unconscious stranger. He knelt down, and checked for the other guy’s condition. He only punched him in the face once, but it was better to make sure. It would be bad if the other was still conscious, for he doesn’t want his plan to end up fruitless, because of the other’s unwarranted presence. The redhead had been observing the bluenette, since he left Kamiwaza earlier and after Kuroko made contact with the other person. He has been keeping watch and following them. Not that he would tell him that, of course.

Nijimura gave Akashi free reign over his work, and he used it to his advantage. Leaving the work earlier than normal was another gamble he had played. Fortunately, it was unexpectedly rewarding.

After Akashi had deemed that the other won’t be waking up anytime soon, he proceeded to pick up the knife on the ground. He wrapped it with a handkerchief, before slipping it into his own pocket. He slowly walked back to the frozen bluenette who was still leaning against the wall with his gaze bored to the concrete surface as if there was something amusing to scrutinize over on the soiled ground. “Are you okay, Kuroko-kun?” Akashi asked as he offered a clean cloth to the bluenette.

Kuroko unwillingly took it, his hand noticeably trembling, and nodded. He gently pressed it to his neck, the small act making him wince. “What are you doing here?” He quickly asked, and as he registered his choice of words, he realized that he might have planted suspicions in the redhead. He wanted to kick himself for being unwarily stupid as he bit his lip.

Pregnant seconds passed, before Akashi gave a reply, and it wasn’t what Kuroko was expecting at all. With a chuckle, Akashi spoke. “I would like to get to know you better,” he said– more like, disclosed.

Kuroko caught his own breath as he slowly lifted his head to answer. He opened his mouth. As if right on cue, Kuroko’s stomach made a rumbling sound, which sent an awkward flush to his cheeks, and an amused laughter to Akashi’s.

Akashi rolled his sleeve up, and checked the watch on his left wrist. “It’s late, but... won’t you come with me for lunch?” Akashi asked.

Kuroko didn’t understand what happened. The next thing he knew, he was already following the redhead to who knows where as he forcibly tried to take his mind away from the recent incident. However, as he watched Akashi’s back, his eyes got instantly drawn to the other’s scarlet locks. It sent a foreign heaviness to his chest as he wondered how they would feel against his fingers. He had read about this before.

What was it called again?

_Suspension Bridge Effect, was it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroko, run for your life! H-He’s going to eat you! And Akashi, how many handkerchiefs do you have in your possession!?
> 
> Am I going too fast with this? (Inner consciousness: You are going fast with this!) Anyway, I just wanted them to hurry up and get it on already! If you know what I mean~ jk ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
> The chapters next to this will be more eventful, I promise. I apologize for all the mistakes!


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the hits, kudos, bookmarks, and comments! (;w;) Now, I’m going to break your hearts–
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed. :3

His current location wasn’t exactly the best place in the world. The prep area of Laboratory 5 wasn’t exactly the best place in the world. Not for him. Never for him.

Nearby, from where he was standing, were sets upon sets of complex apparatus used for forensic examination and analysis. To name a few, there were evidence drying cabinets, a ninhydrin fingerprinting humidified incubator, compound and comparison microscopes, a culpascope, and an unlit stainless cadaver dissection table. There was also a workstation on the other side of the room. Disorganized files were cluttered on top of the table which was lighted with a LED desktop lamp. A test tube rack, with three out of the six test tubes in it filled halfway with liquids of different color, and a crime-lite were also littering the messy terminal.

“That asshole,” he cursed under his breath as he proceeded to the lavatory to wash his hands. “He did thoughtless things which were completely out of plans. Again. How many times has this happened already? I can’t believe _he’s_ tolerating such selfishness!” He clucked as he wiped his hands dry using a white towel.

The ivory walls of Laboratory 5 were mocking him, he thought. Cream-white wasn’t really the best color for such a soiled place. Black would be more fitting.

He couldn’t believe he was still working there. It was as if he was baiting himself right in front of his own enemies. It wasn’t actually his decision, but _his_ – or the organization he was in, rather. But, since _he’s_ the boss, then _he’s_ the one to blame, isn’t _he_? The ungrateful bastard wasn’t even thinking about his well-being. _As if the bastard would ever think of someone else’s welfare._ _Egocentric shit with his head right up his ass… Or his ass right inside his head._ He loudly scraped his shoes on the tiled floor as he strode across the room with large steps. He was inside a completely sound-proofed room, so even throwing a tantrum wouldn’t be a problem. As a matter of fact, he was already inwardly debating throwing one. His movements weren’t monitored in this place, after all. Meaning, nobody was watching him all the time. He was free to do anything he wishes 24/7. That was one of the reasons why he agreed to take the risky job. _He_ wasn’t watching him. He wasn’t leashed. He could do whatever he wanted to in this place. It was his solitary sanctuary.

All of a sudden, the loud ringing of his phone blared throughout the silent room, causing him to flinch and almost trip in his own feet. _Stupid._ He slid his right hand inside the pocket of his laboratory gown, and picked up his phone with a scrunched face. The number flashing on his phone’s screen was unknown, but he knew better. He knew best who the caller was. He clicked the accept button, and placed the speaker next to his ear.

The other line was silent. He knew that was his cue to speak. He huffed. “What is it this time?”

A crackling chuckle resounded from the other end. “I know you’re rattled about Silver’s folly. You know him. Impulsiveness is the enemy of deep thinking. He doesn’t practice the latter, but he has a full supply of foolhardiness,” the caller nonchalantly replied.

 _Foolhardiness, my face!_ He inwardly exclaimed. “You do understand that his actions can be dangerous to us in the future, don’t you? They may have finally traced some clues indicting us!” He whisper-shouted, holding the phone with both of his hands. He knew he was safe inside the laboratory– his safe haven– but his body has been conditioned to be careful at all times.

Another laughter came from the other end of the line. “Of course, I know that,” the caller simply replied. “I know everything. I can see everything.”

 _There he goes again. The shit._ He heard a glassy clink from the other line. _You have the nerve to sit pretty, and drink wine, you ass!?_ “You know, yet you do nothing.”

“I do nothing? It’s the complete opposite, actually,” the voice from the phone sounded amused at his response. Quite brave of him, indeed. “Hanamiya Makoto is a dispensable immolation. You did great work covering his death up before. Too bad he had to die for real, this time.”

He gritted his teeth, forcing his rebuttal down into his throat. He swallowed thickly. “So, what now?”

A satirizing cackle pricked his right ear. “Well… let’s just say, the next plan has already been laid. You just do your job, like always.” There was a brief pause, before the other spoke again. “ _He_ should remember everything this time.”

He clenched the phone tightly. With gritted teeth, he remained still, his heart thrumming loudly inside his chest. He kept his lips from curling upwards. It wasn’t the right time to celebrate yet.

“ _He_ must remember this time,” the person from the other end added.

After those five words were spoken, the call was promptly cut off. He sighed as the beeping sound drowned the room and pounded through his head. He unceremoniously resumed his interrupted walk to his workstation, while combing his hair back with his fingers. He pulled the chair, and sat down. He placed his phone on top of the pile of documents. “Demon,” he muttered. His eyes trailed on the fourth test tube, from the left, on the rack– on the sample tube which was filled with a clear, fulvous fluid.

* * *

Kuroko wasn’t sure if the redhead has a few screws missing inside his head or if he was playing around with him. He hoped it was the former. His expression remained deadpan as he stared at the 6-storey apartment building standing tall before him. It was good enough that Haizaki bothered to spare him some decent clothes earlier. Because of that, he can casually walk around out in the open. Though, at the moment, that was the least of his concerns. What on earth was he doing here!?

Akashi, on the other hand, was all smiles as he led the both of them inside the building.

Kuroko was tempted to write down the redhead’s name– Akashi’s undercover name, "Ogino"– in his not-to-meet-again list of people as he watched Akashi from the corner of his eyes. He backed off a bit from the other.

Oftentimes, the bluenette’s clients would bring him over to their houses. Kuroko believed that his current situation was one of those times, so his suspicions regarding the redhead weren’t that high. The fact that Akashi approached him this fast and easily was a different matter, though. Only a few can spot him, because of his lack of presence– which _they_ made use of to _their_ advantage. Kuroko doesn’t actually hate living like a ghost. To be honest, he rather prefers the once quiet life he had lived. If only he could go back to those times… Despite not having completely remembered his life before. His memory was left in tiny, broken shards– like shattered pieces of glass– and all he could recall was his once peaceful home, which had been dyed with blood, and his life for the past two years. Even though he doesn’t want to remember the way he has been living, all he could do was hope that he would forget the things he has gone through, after he accomplished everything, and start over again. Forgetting wasn’t a bad idea at all, particularly in his current situation.

After a few more minutes, Kuroko found himself standing in front of a door. It was the entrance to the redhead’s apartment. _Obviously._ He inwardly stated. He clutched the pouch tightly to his chest as he felt the familiar murky sensation fill himself, dying his insides with a certain kind of worry and disgust.

Pulling a silver key out of his breast pocket, Akashi sent Kuroko one discreet glance, before finally unlocking the door. “Come in,” he invited, without turning to face the bluenette, and removed his outdoor shoes.

Kuroko fidgeted as he followed, but still retained his expressionless façade. “Pardon my intrusion,” he mumbled as he also slipped out of his sandals.

“Follow me,” Akashi tipped his head as he made his way through the genkan.

As the two of them walked further into Akashi’s apartment, Kuroko noted the small number of furniture adorning the house. He had initially thought that the redhead might be the son of some stinking rich businessman or a wealthy politician. Everything about the guy spoke of nothing but living a well off life. There weren’t any wall decors either, except for the clock hanging on the living room, situated on the wall right above the entertainment set. The entire unit, Kuroko thought, was too large to be inhabited by only one person. Kuroko, at first, considered the idea of the redhead having a flat mate, but the thought was soon thrown in the back of his mind. _Ogino-kun doesn’t seem to be the approachable type, despite him coming to my aid earlier._ Kuroko concluded to himself. The redhead has a prickling aura of superiority around him which might have been the reason why he was living the bachelor’s life. Not that he will care, after what they’re going to _do_ , anyway.

“Sit wherever you like as I prepare our food,” Akashi offered. He headed over to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and fetched what seemed to be a few ingredients.

 _Eh?_ Kuroko instantly turned his head, and raised an eyebrow at Akashi’s words. _What?_ He watched– inspected– the redhead as he sat on one of the chairs in the dining set. He placed the pouch atop the table as he did so. His expression remained the same as he sent a slightly confused look towards the redhead’s figure. _Is he serious?_ His lips pulled down into a frown as he tried to erase the cynical thoughts inside of his mind. _If he’s taking me for a fool, then he better stop it now._ Kuroko continued consciously observing the redhead, his eyes flickering between the ticking clock and the kitchen. Did he make the wrong idea to follow Ogino-kun, after all? He thought, maybe the redhead knows about him, and approached him because of the thing in his possession, but now he wasn’t as sure as before.

The sizzling from the kitchen filled Kuroko’s ears, and a delicious aroma reached his nose, causing him to swallow down his own saliva. He understood that he was too unguarded, and the fact that he was too hungry to even think of becoming suspicious of Ogino was almost slipping out of his mind. He dropped his gaze to the ligneous table, and pondered if he should turn the redhead into his new client. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of something being placed on the table. He lifted his head, and saw a plateful of rice and stir-fried vegetables.

“Eat,” Akashi said, before returning to the kitchen. When he came back, he has a pitcher of water on his right hand and two empty glasses on the other.

Kuroko furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief at the offering in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” Akashi sat himself across the bluenette. He placed his palms together, and muttered a silent “Thank you for the food,” before helping himself with his own serving.

Kuroko mindlessly copied Akashi’s actions. _Was he actually serious about having lunch with me?_  He picked up the chopsticks which came with the food, and also helped himself. He slowly savored the taste of the vegetables as it reached his tongue and slid past his throat. It felt as if it had been years, since he had last eaten. Kuroko was a light eater, but, at the moment, he was too famished to even bother about being one. He carefully ate his food, so as to not upset his stomach.

“You… eat like a chipmunk,” Akashi murmured, observing the way the bluenette ate his food.

Kuroko almost choked when he heard the redhead speak. He was too focused on eating, that he couldn’t care less about how he looked like. At the moment, that is. He drank from his glass of water, before giving his reply. “Ogino-kun should truly think his life choices through.”

Akashi quirked an eyebrow, his chopsticks hanging in front of his mouth. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“You’re too trusting,” Kuroko nonchalantly replied.

 “Well, I could say the same about you,” a soft laughter escaped Akashi’s lips.

Kuroko objected with a pout. "I am not."

Akashi chuckled again, but he left it at that.

Kuroko frowned, after being ignored, and just resumed eating.

The clock ticked in silence, and, soon, the two of them finished partaking their respective meals.

Kuroko set down his chopsticks as he pressed his hands together. “That was… delicious,” he said as he slightly dipped his head.

Akashi did the same, before sending his gaze to the bluenette.

Kuroko returned the look, but he would be lying if he said that the redhead’s eyes didn’t send shivers down his spine. “So,” he began. “I believe, having lunch together isn’t the only reason Ogino-kun brought me over to his house.” _Well, I guess, here it goes._ Kuroko inwardly sighed.

Akashi narrowed his eyes. The small action took only split seconds of their time, before he let an overt smile wantonly tug the corner of his lips. He placed his elbows on top of the table, and laced his fingers together before him. His eyes, despite being a warm shade of red, were cold, collected, and cautious. He wasn’t one to sugarcoat his words, especially in all-important times like these. He knew Kuroko was suspicious of him. Still, he let himself be the dominating one between the two of them. “Will you mind telling me more about yourself, Kuroko?” He was smiling, but his voice was a few octaves lower than usual.

Kuroko flinched, both at the question and the way Akashi asked. His gaze became wary for a second, before returning back to his usual inexpressiveness. _He has been referring to me by my surname, even from before. Kise-kun might have told him. I believe it didn't happen accidentally, though._ Kuroko returned the look. He wasn’t one to simply give in, but he knew the man in front of him was different. Ogino was different from the others. He wasn’t sure how he came up with the idea. The redhead… He felt familiar to him, yet Ogino was a stranger. It was an odd feeling, and he wanted it out of his mind soon– as soon as possible. He gently rubbed circles on his temples. “Like what?” He finally replied.

A look of surprise flickered across Akashi's face.“What’s this? Isn’t this too simple?” He asked. He knew Kuroko would give in to his words somewhere in their conversation. However, what he didn’t expect was for the other to openly give an easy reply. He took the other as the secretive type, but he also had the inkling that the bluenette wasn’t who he appeared to be. Akashi doesn’t know why, but he felt a sense of belonging with the bluenette. He dropped the thought. That wasn’t his concern, at the moment. _Kamiwaza should drill into their staff’s head the meaning of vigilance and secrecy._ He inwardly shook his head, and sighed.

Kuroko drank the remaining water in his glass. After three long gulps, he placed it back on the table, the sound eliciting some sort of anticipation to the both of them. “Ogino-kun helped me, after all. Take it as my payment for that… And, also, for the lunch offer,” Kuroko quietly said.

Akashi inconspicuously inspected the bluenette in front of him. He did feel a bit disconcerted, because everything appeared to be moving rather smoothly, which was totally unsettling and suspicious. He let a few more seconds of silence and a handful of heartbeats pass between them. With a wicked grin perfectly gracing his lips, he spoke. “I’m not fond of lacing my words with honey, especially at crucial times like this, so I’ll be direct as I possibly can with you.” His smile pulled down to a somber frown. “Tell me more about yourself, Kurokage. Just so you’re informed beforehand, I’m not requesting this from you. I’m ordering you to answer this question of mine,” Akashi continued. He reached for the inside of his coat, took his police badge, and slid it over the table. Not that the badge is actually genuine. It wasn’t a fraud either.

Kuroko gasped, his eyes widening the smallest fraction. He abruptly stood up from his seat, which almost caused him to fall back to his rear if he didn’t conditionally grasp the dining table’s surface. He felt like a prey cornered by its predator right that very swift instant. He really should do something about his trusting nature. Ogiwara had warned him before, but he just brushed it off. He needed to gain as much trust as possible after all, with his line of work, but it could lead him to dangerous situations… like the one he was facing right now. “Y-You tricked me…” He muttered as he looked back and forth at Akashi and the badge’s case on top of the table.

Akashi picked up the leather holder, and returned his badge to the inside pocket of his coat. With a huff he leaned his back to the chair’s backrest, and casually folded his arms to his chest. “Hardly. We don’t even know each other that much yet,” he said as he gestured his hand– a signal telling the bluenette to sit back.

Kuroko picked up the chair as he awkwardly nibbled on his lower lip. A bug trapped in a spider’s web, waiting for the predatory arachnid to wrap it with its silk thread– that was what he was. How could he let the other sweep him that easily? Staring at Akashi’s crimson locks, he inwardly blamed the faultless scarlet strands. In the end, he obeyed, and sat back. He tried to remain as calm and comfortable as possible in the redhead’s presence. He also leaned his body against the backrest of the chair, though, his entirety remained stiff. “It was Kise-kun, wasn’t it?” He looked sideways, his teal orbs flatly gazing outside the large windows of Akashi’s apartment.

Akashi lightly tittered, confirming the bluenette’s suspicions.

 _I’ll definitely kill you the next time I see you, Kise-kun._ He uncharacteristically glared. The looks he was sending the clear glass, now, could almost set the poor window on fire. _Then, I guess, this leaves me with no other choice…_ He heaved a defeated sigh as he pushed the chair back, his feet gliding against the wooden floor. His eyes were downcast as he stood up, causing a chilly air to form around him. He attentively walked over towards Akashi with self-possessed counted steps. His slender fingers which were sliding over the table made a hissing sound– like a snake cautiously approaching a vulnerable prey. Though, Akashi wasn't one. Every step he took was done so carefully like a building up anticipation within the tensed atmosphere confining the both of them.

Akashi observed the bluenette’s movements with narrowed eyes. He remained still as his pair of red irises shifted from Kuroko’s steps, to the bluenette’s fingers, before finally staying to the other’s face. He made an almost inaudible guttural sound, when he noticed the expressionless-as-a-doll mask the other was wearing. The icy blue orbs bizarrely chilled his insides. His stomach untypically churned, and his blasé expression staggered for a brief moment.

Soon, Kuroko found himself standing on Akashi’s left. “Ogino-kun wants to know about Kurokage, right?” He took Akashi’s hand, and hung the redhead’s left arm over the chair’s backrest. The other, he left on the table. His movements were sensual as he made contact with Akashi’s skin, teasingly lingering the feel of his fingertips on the small expanse Akashi’s coat revealed. He gulped. The sound of his heart pounding loudly filled his ears as he continued his brave ministrations. Inwardly, he was trembling with fear– not because of Akashi’s presence, but because of what was about to happen. He raised his right leg, and laid his knee on Akashi’s lap.

Slowly, Kuroko brought his face down to meet the redhead’s unreadable look, successfully leveling their gazes. He snaked his arms on the redhead’s shoulders, and crossed them just behind the nape. Deliberately, he pulled Akashi towards him, gradually closing the short distance between them. “How about I show you, then?” came the end of his reply as he locked Akashi’s lips with his, capturing the latter in an innocent yet poisonous kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*clenches chest*_ Welp… that escalated quickly. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Now, fire the bullets. I’m ready.
> 
> Lol Kuroko, you little man-eater– Correction: Akashi Seijuurou-eater. OMFG DID I JUST– I’m honestly not sorry about this chapter. Though, I still apologize for all the mistakes I made. I was too sleepy while _trying_ to edit this. I wasn't even sure if I did any editing at all, or if it was just a dream. I gave up, in the end. I’ll just do it tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow… or the day after… or–
> 
> (I was supposed to update **Missing Pieces** today, but decided not to, because, when I read the chapter, it felt incomplete. Maybe, I will post Chapter 9 next week, or the week after. I’m so sorry for the delay.)


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally spent hours staring at the blinking text cursor in MSword, trying to think of what to write, while thinking (and inwardly freaking out) over what to do with our thesis. _*cries in sheer agony*_
> 
> I’m so sorry that this came late! Our internet connection is still crappy, because of the typhoon. T_T Anyway, thank you for always supporting this fic! Writing is my only ray of shine in this bleak life of mine. lol
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed, Mayuyu’s rainbow of curses (that we all love), and... well, just some shit that’s about to happen. :3

The late afternoon sky bloomed outside. It was an encompassing canvas of cerulean lit up by the glaring sunlight– a typical undisturbed day in the city.

Somewhere, in the darkness, within the deepest undertone of the calm, a phone soundlessly blinked. On its screen, a notice flashed. _One new message_ , it said.

A thumb slid through the display, drew the pattern to unlock it, and simultaneously opened the unread mail.

 _“He’s not needed anymore,”_ the message read.

As the phone’s light died, a small grin flickered on its owner’s lips, dreadfully reflecting on its pitch-black screen.

* * *

Akashi already had the faintest idea about Kuroko’s line of work. Still, the bluenette’s bold actions, in every respect, took him by surprise. It didn’t show in his face, but his heart did skip a beat when he felt the warm touch invade his lips. The kiss was straightforward– just Kuroko’s mouth and his– and was truly… intoxicating. It was enough to make him stop thinking rationally about anything else for a few seconds. He almost responded and pulled the bluenette to his chest, until he felt a pang of pain overrun his head. It was as if thousands of needles suddenly began puncturing his brain in all places. It had happened before, but he thought he had already been cured of it. He didn’t know he still hadn’t. Not until now. Grabbing Kuroko by the arm, he roughly shoved him away– opposite to his initial thoughts to just let the bluenette have his way with his game– and covered his eyes with his left hand.

Kuroko drew in his breath at the sudden push. He was coughing by the time he realized how the redhead had just pulled away. He was so sure that Akashi was about to kiss him back. It was a first for him– for someone to refuse his advances. He wasn’t sure if he should feel irritated or thankful because of it. All he knew was that Akashi was different. The redhead was different from everyone else… and he hated it. He hated it because things weren’t going his way. His Plan B which was to escape doesn’t appear to be workable given the current circumstances. He wasn’t so heartless so as to leave Ogino-kun in his current situation, after the redhead had helped and fed him. Blame his senseless conceitedness.

Akashi moved his hand, and clutched his forehead with his palm. His head seared. It felt as if it was burning. He squeezed his eyes shut to try to lessen the scorching sensation, but nothing happened. He gritted his teeth as a crossed huff went past his lips.

Kuroko’s eyebrows scrunched as he felt Akashi’s already strong grip on his arm tighten even more. “Ogino…kun?” He muttered between clenched jaws. His arm was getting numb. He tried to wriggle it away, but Akashi’s hold was too secured– as if his arm had been locked in Akashi’s fist. He doesn’t have any idea what was happening.

The redhead appeared to be in pain, and his nails were almost clawing against Kuroko’s skin.

Kuroko flinched. He doesn’t know what to do. He listened to Akashi’s shallow breathing as he clung to him… desperately. Almost for dear life, he thought. He was getting concerned… or worried… or troubled. However, before he could even call out the other’s name– Akashi’s fake name, because Kuroko had gotten only a split second to glance on Akashi’s badge earlier, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he had read the redhead’s name correctly– Akashi’s grip on his arm suddenly loosened.

All at once, the redhead’s body stiffened. So did his hold. The puffs of breath coming out of him decreased, until there were none at all and his breathing was finally regulated. Slowly, as if imitating Kuroko’s touches earlier, his fingers slithered on the bluenette’s skin, until his hands dropped down to his sides.

The action caused a strange tremor in Kuroko’s body, and he felt his heart stuck itself in his throat. He felt at loss, and he couldn’t find the right words to make sure that the redhead was fine.

Akashi’s head leisurely lifted. His eyes were shadowed by the fringes of his scarlet hair.

Kuroko, however, could still see the lower half of Akashi’s face. His vision trailed on the other’s lips– the lips that he had just kissed just a few moments ago.

Akashi was… smiling.

Kuroko’s eyes slightly widened. The person before him felt different. The atmosphere, the vibe– everything. He retreated with a single step. And another. And another. All of a sudden, a feeling of heaviness washed upon him. His muscles felt as if they had been paralyzed in an instant. He felt so weak… and tired. Was his body finally giving in to exhaustion? He wondered. His legs began to wobble as his body swayed, and his vision became murkier. Slowly, his body toppled over. He was sinking to the floor. His mind was beginning to shut down. As he closed his eyes, the last thing he saw were the two jewels embedded in Akashi’s eyes.

_Red. Gold._

Red and gold. The colors he hated the most. It reminded him of _that person_ and what _he_ did to his family. _His eyes… How come…?_ He incompletely asked himself. Despite all his questions, his mind had already put off thinking. He let his tiredness, and the warmth cradling him, lull him into sleep.

“Tetsuya.”

Kuroko didn’t hear it when Akashi muttered his name as he was already lost in his own artificial dream.

* * *

_It was the very first time in his entire life that he had felt unsure. Uncertain might be the best word to explain how he was currently feeling. It was truly a far-fetched thought. Him. Hesitant. The very thought of those two words being connected was outright laughable. It was absurd that someone like him_ _– that someone of his caliber– was anxious about something._

_How long had it been, since he last saw **him**? Two years? Three? Four?_

_He couldn’t remember._

_The only things he could recall were the soft glow of **his** cheeks as **he** smiled at him for no reason at all, the warmth of **his** hand as **he** placed it atop his to show **his** trust and reassurance… and love, and the soothing sound of **his** voice every time his name escaped **his** supple lips. Everything **he** did sent his stone cold heart aflutter– another inexplicable feeling that only **he** could ignite within him._

**_He_ ** _was a mystery._

 **_He_ ** _was his mystery._

 **_He_ ** _was a puzzle meant only for him to solve._

 **_He_ ** _was his the same way **he** owned him._

_However, he left. He left not for himself, but for **his** protection._

_It was his greatest regret, and he knew he couldn’t make amends for hurting **him** – for breaking **his** heart– for not even explaining anything to **him**. Though, if he could, he would throw everything away– everything he has– and maybe… maybe, this time, take **his** hand, so they could run away together._

_Will **he** even come with him? He laughed at the question. It was god-awful. But, he hoped that **he** would._

_It didn’t matter if they think of it as an act of betrayal; it didn’t matter if they place a large sum of money on his head– on their heads; it didn’t matter if the whole world turns its back against them._

_It didn’t matter… as long as **he** was with him._

**_He_ ** _was his life._

_It was a cheesy thought, but those were his undisputed feelings. It was one of the genuine things he held dear in his heart._

_He might be blindly in love with **him** , but **he** was his everything._

_Was._

_Everything ended when he left. He knew there was no going back, when he made that decision._

_Or so, he thought._

_Until one day, he saw **him** again_ _– i_ _n a photo clipped in a file innocently lying on top of his leader’s table._

 **_He_ ** _hasn’t changed. **His** face remained the same. **His** pale complexion… **His** eyes… **His** hair… Everything remained the same_ _– the same, when he left **him**. **His** hair might have grown a bit longer, but everything else appeared to have been stopped by time. **He** was the most beautiful person his eyes had ever laid upon. **He** was also the kindest he had known._

_His heart froze in that brief moment. His breath quietly hitched as he carved **his** face within the deepest– the most special– places of his memory. He lovingly traced his fingers on the name printed on the paper. His expression was apathetic, but his mind and heart were drowning in a whirlpool of emotions._

_It was his beloved’s name._

**_He_ ** _was before him again._

_He decisively made up his mind._

_This time, he won’t let **him** escape again._

_And he won’t ever escape from **him** again._

That happened almost four years ago.

* * *

Mayuzumi indignantly strode back to the damned department in all of the Metropolitan Police– also known as: the Forensic Biology Office. After spending his life holed up inside one of the Crime Labs for two straight nights, he was honestly thrilled to be back in the living world. “Thrilled,” for the lack of a better word. He was happy. Or maybe he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure. And he doesn’t actually care. His concerns were currently in a repeated cycle: if the chief will approve of his new request– his silent plea– for another week of leave, away from the hell more commonly known as his work place. Seriously, why was he even still working here!?

Leaning to his right as he tackled the wooden door, he harshly pushed the entrance open with an irate huff. Everyone inside the FBO appeared to have been startled, and was staring at him in shock, but he didn’t notice. Or care. He didn’t care if they thought he had finally gone nuts, after spending his precious life surrounded with corpses for such a long time. He was too occupied with everything else that the thought of opening the door, the same way every normal human does, slipped his mind. That was the least of his concerns at the moment, to be honest. He couldn’t believe how everything went fucking wrong or where everything went fucking wrong. And why his life was so fucking wrong. _It was all his damn fault! That little shit!_ He inwardly swore as he swiped all the scattered files on his desk. He has a lot more works inside his laboratory which were in the same messy state, but, then again, he couldn’t care less. Maybe, he would prefer it if he actually went bat shit crazy. Imagine the faces Nijimura and Akashi will make. Totally fucking priceless.

Suddenly, a slightly shorter man– a centimeter or two shorter than Mayuzumi– wearing the same lab gown as the one he has on, came up behind him holding a mug of coffee. “Whoa. You look like you haven’t slept in days,” the man said as he sipped from his evidently freshly-brewed cup of coffee.

Mayuzumi’s nose perked at the disgustingly bittersweet aroma. He wasn’t a coffee person before, but, since the day he started working in the MPD, his routine drastically changed. Tea became coffee– sometimes, he believed his blood might not be 100% authentic anymore, and, instead, it has been refined with dark coffee, counting the countless times he had drank the once atrocious drink. Twelve hours of sleep became two– most of the times, none even. His leisure time also became zero. The only habit that remained was his colorful way with words.

“You honestly look like crap,” the man added with a small amused laugh running past his mouth. He was wearing gray rimmed glasses, and strands of his black, messy hair were falling on top of its lenses.

Mayuzumi, in all honesty, wanted to sock the man straight to the face. He huffed. “Geez. Thank you for stating that, Captain Obvious,” he muttered with a glare. He really wanted to punch the man for getting on his nerves, after everything he had just gone through. Imayoshi wasn’t the one at fault, though. Nor was he.

Imayoshi Shouichi is one of the examiners of the FBO. He’s currently the Assistant Director of Forensic Science in the department where Mayuzumi belongs. However, unlike the other sections, the FBO doesn’t follow the traditional organizational tree. Imayoshi might be living with such an important title, but his work remained the same as the other examiners.

Imayoshi backed off a bit. “Calm down,” he said. He was too used to Mayuzumi by now. “You want some coffee?” He asked, but never waited for Mayuzumi’s answer. He returned to his own table which was only two desks away from Mayuzumi’s own. He swept some papers to the side, and placed his mug down on his table, then proceeded to a nearby coffeemaker, and prepared a new cup.

Again, Mayuzumi couldn’t care less. He wasn’t into such things as hierarchical slavery. He didn’t even use any sorts of honorific when he talked to their division chief on his first day of getting admitted in the godforsaken place. It was just his nature to be arrogantly argumentative, and his co-workers might’ve, kind of, gotten used to it already, like Imayoshi, after so long. Almost three years, was it? Or, maybe, they just finally got tired of Mayuzumi’s hostile nature. He was just being true to himself. So, what?

“Here,” Imayoshi offered a mug of coffee. He was holding his own cup on his other hand.

The print on the mug read: LIVE LIFE TO THE FULLEST!, and Mayuzumi almost puked the very instant he saw it. _Live life to the fullest, my ass! We’re working with dead bodies here, for your information!_ He glared at the cup first, before accepting it with a silent “tch.” The guy just has the hobby of getting on his nerves every time the other opens his mouth or does something. _Fucker._ “You don’t need to go to the trouble… bastard,” he mumbled.

“What happened?” Imayoshi asked, completely unharmed by Mayuzumi’s scalding tongue. 

Mayuzumi blew on his cup. _Stupid. As if, that would even turn the fucking coffee warmer._ He put off drinking, and answered with a scowl. “Well, bullshit. Nijimura’s being an ass, Akashi’s being an ass, everyone’s being an ass, and I can’t believe I’m still working here! I must be crazy.” Again, he blew the smoke coming from his own mug of coffee. _Get fucking warm already, you shit._

A silent hum was Imayoshi’s only reply. His response didn't sound consoling at all, if it was meant to uplift Mayuzumi's mood.

Mayuzumi raised his head, and saw Imayoshi looking at him as if the poor guy had just seen a cup of coffee swallow Mayuzumi whole. His gray irises became evident as his eyes opened, which was a once in a blue moon occurrence. Mayuzumi wondered how Imayoshi could see with his eyes closed all the fucking time. He griped in annoyance at the silent treatment. “What? Stop giving me that look. It’s really creepy, just so you know,” he said. _Not that you always aren’t._ He added in his mind.

Imayoshi blinked, his mouth slowly closing as his apparent amusement died down. “You look stressed out,” he replied, drinking once from his cup. “Shall I take over your work for you? Get an hour or two of rest, maybe?” He offered, a frown decorating his face.

Mayuzumi’s body went rigid as his eyes bulged out in surprise. Did he just hear Imayoshi correctly? “You’ll… do that?” He carefully confirmed.

Imayoshi nodded. “Yes. But, just for a while. I also have a lot on my hands, obviously.”

“You will seriously do that? For me? Are you out of your mind?” Mayuzumi gave Imayoshi a strange look, utterly dumbfounded as he pulled his face away, appearing to retreat from the conversation.

Imayoshi sighed. “Not for you. I’ll be in more trouble if you collapse on me. Sakurai, being the rookie he is, isn’t that much helpful–”

Somewhere inside the large room, a loud incomprehensive cry butted in. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry for being useless! I’m so sorry for being inexperienced! I’m so sorry for being nothing but trouble! I’m so sorry for living! I’m so–” The voice was cut off, when someone else shouted “Delivery!” from the entrance.

“–yet,” Imayoshi ended, sparing a worried glance over the brown-haired newbie, Sakurai Ryou, who was repeatedly bowing his head, for who knows what reason, in front of another guy in uniform.

Mayuzumi frowned, pondering over Imayoshi’s suggestion. “Well, if you’re volunteering… Then, I guess, it is better that I take you on that offer.” He couldn’t let such a fortunate opportunity pass. It was even someone higher than him who suggested it, so how could he refuse? Never will he ever refuse. “You’re the only god-sent individual in this hellhole,” he added. It was a lie, obviously.

“That’s creepy,” Imayoshi replied with a blank look.

“Well, you are creepy, so isn’t it only appropriate?” Mayuzumi, quirking an eyebrow, nonchalantly answered.

Imayoshi just brushed it off like usual. “Whatever.”

Suddenly, a man came up behind Imayoshi. He was wearing the usual delivery man attire– shirt, pants, rubber shoes, including the cap which Mayuzumi thought was pulled down rather low.

 _Well, weird place where weird people flock. Totally fucking logical._ Mayuzumi concluded in his head.

“Delivery!” The man cheerfully announced, dipping his head slightly as a polite gesture, before walking past Imayoshi, and towards Mayuzumi. “Mayuzumi Chihiro-san, right? The guy in the front told me you’re the one with gray hair!”

Mayuzumi wanted to also sock the guy’s face the very instant he opened his mouth. _Too fucking loud. Why is everyone so fucking loud? Can’t this guy even do the simple task of controlling the volume of his voice?_ “Just hurry up, and tell me where to sign.”

“Yes!” The man showed a paper as he walked forward. “Please, sign here– W-Whoa–!” However, before he could even reach Mayuzumi, he had tripped on who knows where, and almost knocked Mayuzumi on his table.

Good thing, Mayuzumi has good reflex, so he was able to push the man away from him, without spilling the mug of coffee in his hand. He must’ve hurt the other, but he knew, the moment he touched the other’s chest, that the man has a well-toned body underneath the dark green shirt he was wearing. He almost fucking burned his hand, and that isn’t good. So they’re only even. He let out an impatient sigh.

The man ended up on the floor, plunked on his rear. His cap fell from the sudden push, revealing his blonde hair and a pair of dark oval-shaped eyes. “Wah! I-I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” He frantically asked.

Mayuzumi raised an eyebrow at the other’s question. “No,” he immediately answered. _Shouldn’t he be more concerned about himself?_ “I mean, yes. Where do I sign?” He asked. He wasn’t the one at fault, so fuck apologizing.

“Here!” The man stood up and held out the clip board, before bowing deeply, his body almost at ninety degree. “I’m really sorry!”

Mayuzumi swore he could nearly see a pair of dog ears dejectedly folded on the guy’s head. “It’s… okay.” He grabbed a pen from his workstation, and signed as proof that he had accepted whatever was delivered to him. He actually had it backwards, but, again, he couldn’t care less. After that, he took the small package from the delivery guy.

Back to his cheerful self, the man recited the typical delivery boy's I'm-outta-here catchphrase– as Mayuzumi decided to call it–  while wearing his cap back to his head. “Thank you for your continued patronage! We hope to be of service to you again!” A bit of his snaggletooth showed as he beamed. The man left, thereafter.

Mayuzumi watched as the guy fumbled over about 3 times, before finally reaching the door. “How is it even possible that someone like that guy is able to find a decent job, while I’m stuck here dealing with lifeless bodies?” He asked, mostly to himself, as he drank his coffee, savoring the bittersweet taste that went past his throat with every gulp. _Still not fucking warm._

Imayoshi shrugged in response. “I don’t know. Guts and perseverance, maybe?”

 _Such heavy words._ Mayuzumi inwardly answered, before he turned and went back to his desk. The package in his hand was too light, that Mayuzumi wondered what its contents could be.

Imayoshi did the same. He sat back to his own table, and returned his focus on his work. He could also use some rest for a while.

However, everything was short lived, when the assistant chief heard a clattering sound some distance away from him, followed by a series of papers fluttering down. He turned his head to his right. Mayuzumi was gone from his seat. _Did he leave?_ That wasn’t possible, since he didn’t saw him went past him. He swiveled his chair to peer over the gray-haired man, but what he saw made him promptly stand up from his seat. “Mayuzumi?” He called out.

Mayuzumi was curled up in a fetal position, and was writhing on the tiled floor. The gray-haired coroner's breathing was onerous and strained.

"Mayuzumi!" Imayoshi raised his voice when the other gave no reply. "Oi, Mayuzumi!” Before he knew it, he had already scuttled to Mayuzumi’s side.

Mayuzumi’s eyes were squeezed shut as he clenched his chest, gasping for air like a fish taken out of water. He repeatedly palmed his chest, trying to suck as much air as he could– as much as possible. He felt as if he was drowning. His lungs felt as if they were being pierced... as if something which shouldn’t be there was actually there. He wasn’t sure if air was even reaching them. The pain lasted only for a short while, but to him, it felt like agonizing hours had passed. Soon, he began feeling lightheaded and weak. His mind was urging him to sleep, and he was goaded to do just that. Okay, maybe he was tired after all. But, two days without sleep don’t conjure this much pain. He had spent longer sleepless nights before, and he didn’t experience something like this among those.

Sakurai came up to them, wearing a curious look. “Imayoshi-senpai, what’s–” His face paled, turning into panic, in an instant.

“Sakurai!” Imayoshi barked, causing Sakurai to jump back a step. “Call for help!”

Sakurai was too focused on Mayuzumi’s condition that he apparently didn't hear Imayoshi’s order. “I’m so sorry, what–”

“Just hurry up and dial for an ambulance!”

“Uhh…" His superior’s yell seemed to have taken him out of his trance. "Y-Yes!” The newbie examiner hurried over to the front desk, and did as Imayoshi said.

Mayuzumi forced his eyes open, but only succeeded in doing so in the slightest bit. His breathing gradually became shallower, then it returned to normal, and he felt as if he was being oscillated midair. His eyes were glazed over as he looked straight into Imayoshi’s eyes. His face scrunched up as everything played– dissolved– right in front of him. Imayoshi’s face became muddled. The other’s dark hair became lighter, his glasses changed to wire-rimmed ones, and his skin was now decorated with wrinkles from old age. Before his eyes was not Imayoshi, but someone else. An almost inaudible gasp escaped his lips. _What was happening? How…_

“Fa…ther…?” Mayuzumi spoke in a soft voice, which sounded foreign even to himself.

“Mayuzumi!” Imayoshi called out once more, his voice far louder this time. “Shit–” He cursed, as he watched Mayuzumi’s eyes slowly flutter close.

As Mayuzumi’s vision began to fade, the last thing he saw was his dead father’s face. He was looking at him with a smile. He had greatly missed it. A smile also tugged on his lips as he finally let the darkness take over him. Oddly enough, the last thing he thought was that…

_He was happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~  
> _*dances away*_  
>   
> 
> Since Kuroko has already suffered a lot in the past chapters, how about we let someone else take the part for a change– like… Mayuzumi, for example? *gets hoarded by Mayuyu's fans while shouting: "Hey, I also love him!"*
> 
> I'm planning (take note: _planning_ XD) to update **Missing Pieces** next week, so there won't be an update for Yellow Diamonds (That is, if I actually do.). I'm really sorry for not having consistent plans with my life. OMFG WHY AM I LIKE THIS- _*goes in an existential crisis*_
> 
> P.S. I repeat, I love Mayuyu. Yeah.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hohohoho! I'm back to give you more feels and angst and pain. _*insert evil laughter here*_
> 
> We went to the site of our project study this week, and, now, the pressure of our upcoming dissertation is weighing down on me. _*gross sobbing*_
> 
>  _*clears throat*_ Anyway, thank you for all the reads, reviews, faves, and follows! Have fun reading this chapter!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed, and uhhh... some feels, I guess? :3

_He exactly has no idea how he came to this decision. It was far different from his initial career choice, but it wasn't completely behind the alternative paths he knew he would one day take. Both of his parents were acclaimed in the field, after all, and the people around them had already seen it coming._

_Decided._

_They had decided that he would become like his parents in the future. And, yes, they were correct. Right till the end, he wasn't his own person, but someone those around him had created._

_The College of Science, where his department belonged, was known as the largest and the foremost pacesetter of academic excellence in the whole university– or even in the whole country. Hectares upon hectares of lands were developed to house the stupendous complex. The laboratories were also first-rate with their complete equipment and top-tier testing facilities._

_He sent another look of admiration at the massive form of his department's building standing tall before his eyes. He imprinted it deep within his memory. He silently prayed that the next four years of his life would be as good– not that it actually was– or better, as the past 18 years._

_To his favor, the gods must have listened to his heartfelt orison._

_Everything went well for months._

_Everything went well… but not for too long._

_It was that one portentous accident in the fourth laboratory of his department when his life veered off course_ _– turning_ _a pivotal turn. He once called it their fateful encounter. A cliché term. Nonetheless, it was what built up what they had._

_Their meeting was truly the very definition of an explosive kismet. And it was literally explosive._

_If only he didn't listed first going out with his friends earlier that week, before finishing his laboratory class activity; if only he knew how to properly plan his life and placed his true priorities on top of his messed up schedule; if only he didn't push the crazy idea of using the laboratory that one late night to rush his project_ _– none of these would have happened._

_Not that he regretted it._

_In fact, he didn't._

_Not once. Not ever._

_That specific night of his second year in the university, he happened to meet_ _**him** _ _. He had known_ _**him** _ _for too long, but_ _**the other** _ _might not have considered his existence to be something of significance._ _**He** _ _was standing on top of a high, elevated, plinth where nobody can reach_ _**him** _ _– where nobody was supposed to reach_ _**him** _ _._ _**He** _ _was considered a sacred treasure of their university with_ _**his** _ _exceptional aptitude and proficiency in all aspects._ _**He** _ _was perfect in every way._

_It was, kind of, unfair how someone like_ _**him** _ _was allowed to walk the same ground as the one he was walking on._

_Or so, that's what he thought._

_Far from his primary thoughts about_ _**him** _ _,_ _**his** _ _attitude was a complete 180 of_ _**his** _ _usual adeptness._ _**He** _ _had the tendency to forget_ _**his** _ _well-being as_ _**he** _ _got immersed to_ _**his** _ _works._ _**He** _ _worried too much about how people viewed_ _**him** _ _._ _**He** _ _was a bit awkward when put in an uncomfortable situation._ _**He** _ _has a penchant for being childish, whenever it came to him... whenever it came to the bond they shared._

_Far from being perfect,_ _**he** _ _has too much flaws. Flaws which made_ _**him** _ _complete. Flaws which made_ _**him** _ _perfect. Flaws which made him think that_ _**he** _ _wasn't some supernatural being, contrary to his stupid belief when he first laid his eyes upon_ _**him** _ _. Flaws which made his heart soar in the skies. Flaws which made him love_ _**him** _ _._

_He loved everything about_ _**him** _ _._

_**He** _ _was his everything._

_**He** _ _was the forever he never had._

* * *

Akashi's eyes flitted open, revealing a mismatched pair of orbs– the once blood red left iris was now marred with gold. He was sitting on the floor, his head rested on the bed, on top of his folded arms. He watched with intent eyes the person peacefully sleeping on the soft covers.

Kuroko Tetsuya.

It was their third chance encounter. It was the second time he came across him, while he was working on a case. Still, everything about the bluenette felt like the first time.

Akashi stood up from his sitting position, not minding the slight numbness of his legs, and ensconced himself on the empty space next to Kuroko. He reached his right hand, and brushed the sweaty sky blue strands of hair sticking on the other's forehead. His eyes softened as he continued the affectionate gesture, until Kuroko's face was completely visible. "Tetsuya," he gently called out, observing the way Kuroko's chest heaved up and down as the sleeping bluenette breathed.

Kuroko let out an uncomfortable noise. He shifted, his face contorting into pain. "I'm… sorry…" He mumbled, his face scrunched up as he fidgeted in his sleep. "I'm sorry…" He repeated.

Akashi felt a pang of pain in his chest. _No… I should be the one saying that._ He slipped both of his palms on Kuroko's cheeks, letting the warmth engulf his own skin. He brought down his head, their noses only a hair's breadth away and almost touching. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, as he caressed the bluenette's cheeks with his thumbs. His voice sounded painfully low, but it held a distinct protectiveness in it.

Kuroko groaned. His eyelids flickered. He appeared to be waking up.

Akashi removed his hands, and placed them back to his sides, clutching the edge of the soft bed. He sat, his back upright, waiting for Kuroko to open his eyes.

Soon after that, Kuroko's sky blue orbs revealed themselves. He sent his gaze on the suspended ceiling of, he thought, an unknown bedroom. Amid his drowsy state, he glanced to his left first, then to his right. He quietly observed the person before him, until everything finally sunk in. He hastily jolted up from his position, causing him to sway back as a wave of nausea hit him. He glared at the redhead, but he wasn't exactly looking at the other straight in the eyes, while holding his forehead as if the small action would alleviate his lightheadedness. "You… drugged me," he said, his voice anything but gentle.

Akashi inwardly smiled at the spurned action. "I apologize for resorting to that. I have more questions for you, so I can't afford to lose you right now," he replied with an apologetic smile which Kuroko thought was anything but apologetic. _Or ever._ He added inside his head.

"You're a police officer. You should know that I could press charges for assault," Kuroko threatened, clenching the blankets closer to him like a makeshift shield.

This time, Akashi finally gave in. He chuckled in amusement. He brought his thumb and index finger to his lips, and gestured as if he was seriously ruminating on the threat. "You were the one who kissed without warning. Brave of you, I must admit. So, shouldn't I be the one to press charges for sexual assault?"

A blush crept up on Kuroko's face. A tick of vain popped on top of his head. "Who would want to sexually assault someone like you?" He flatly replied, but the pink tint on his cheeks gave him away.

Akashi proudly nodded to himself. "I believe, my standards are very high," he nonchalantly said.

Kuroko was about to make a comeback, when Akashi's mobile phone suddenly rang.

Akashi picked it up from the night stand. The name flashed on the screen made him debate over if he should pick up or pretend to be asleep. The latter choice would cause minutes of castigation from the person, so he just decided to answer it.

The caller was Nijimura.

Akashi greeted with an irate cluck. The action was pretty normal. It was somewhat similar to saluting his superior. "What is it?" He asked.

Kuroko attempted to listen to the conversation, but Akashi was too careful with his words. He didn't hear anything that he could use against the redhead. Though, he did notice the way Akashi's face looked surprised for a brief moment, and how he unconsciously raised his voice in the middle of the conversation.

A few moments later, Akashi hung up, sighing exasperatedly in the process. He slid his fingers across his scarlet locks, before placing his phone in his pocket. He turned his gaze to Kuroko. "I believe, we don't have time for reminiscence right now. Something came up, and it's messing up the pace I have set."

Kuroko looked at the redhead in confusion. _Reminiscence?_ "…What do you mean?" He knew he asked the wrong question, when Akashi answered. He meant to know why Akashi said the word "reminiscence," not about what came up. He couldn't get too involved, he thought.

But, he was too late.

"Tetsuya, tell me everything you know about Yellow Diamond."

Kuroko felt his heart stop.

* * *

He was there, when he died.

It was an accident. It wasn't his father's fault. A truck suddenly swerved around a corner with the red light still flashing, crashing against the Ford Taurus his father was driving. His father covered him with his body to protect him from the impact. Red filled his vision, and he heard his father say something to him, but he wasn't able to make up the words. He instantly lost consciousness after that.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on a hospital bed. The doctor was, as careful as he could, filling him in about what happened, but all he heard was that his father didn't survive– that he was dead. He was left with mild bruises and broken bones which was fortunate of him. But, he felt otherwise.

The case was ruled as vehicular homicide, but he couldn't forgive the suspect for taking the last person remaining in his life. He felt remorse. But, he knew none of those were meant to happen.

He knew there was something wrong with the driver, but nobody believed him. He wasn't sure why or how he thought of that, but he felt that something was off when their eyes met before the collision. He was young, at that time, so his opinion didn't matter.

That day, he was left all alone to fend for himself.

.

.

.

Mayuzumi jerked awake, his temples damp with beads of cold sweat. The white light almost blinded him as his eyes forced their way open, so he conditionally closed them and slowly reopened them again to adjust his vision. When he had finally calmed down, he noticed that everything around him was white– the bed, the blanket, the ceiling, the walls, the curtains.

The sound of the heart monitor filled the room, and it made him realize his current location.

A hospital.

His mind raced to remember. _What the fuck am I doing here!?_ He felt his pulse go faster, causing the machine to blare. He tried to regulate his breathing. _Okay, calm down. There's no use panicking. Trace your memories back. What's the last thing you remember?_ He tried to think as calmly as he could, but whenever his father's face flashes inside his mind, the heart monitor just shot up even more. He gripped the blanket tighter. _Shit! I do know that I had been in the office, then Imayoshi offered to take some of my loads off, then there was that annoying delivery guy, then…_ His train of thoughts was cut off, when the door suddenly opened.

"Ah! You're awake!" A voice cheerfully greeted. The person was wearing a nurse's uniform, and was pushing a stainless steel cart with all kinds of medical paraphernalia on it.

Mayuzumi watched the nurse make his way to his side. He read the nametag hanging on the breast pocket of the man's uniform.

 _Takao_ , it read.

"I'm going to refill your IV fluid now. Shin-chan– I mean, the doctor will check up on you, after this," Takao said, before performing the task. "How are you feeling? Feel anything wrong?"

"Like hell," Mayuzumi replied. "I thought the doctor, whoever he is, is the one supposed to do the check-up?"

Takao laughed. "Well, yeah. You're right about that. Just some preliminary questions, I guess?" He placed the syringe back to the cart, on a space separate from the unused ones. "You, kind of, got admitted while Shin-chan was in the middle of meeting with an important client, so he's quite pissed right now."

 _Who the fuck is Shin-chan!? And for fuck's sake, he shouldn't have chosen being a doctor as his profession if he always acts like that!_ Mayuzumi inwardly replied. "What happened to me?" He asked, instead.

"Eh? What do you mean?" Takao gave him a confused look. "Don't you remember?"

"Well, fuck, obviously."

"You were dru–"

Before Takao could even give his reply, another person entered the room.

 _Don't any of you know how to knock first, before entering a private room!?_ Mayuzumi inwardly argued, but, surely, he also wasn't one to complain. He has the same habit, after all.

"Ah! Shin-chan, you're finally here!" Takao chirped.

"Takao, how many times do I need to remind you to keep your voice down, whenever you're inside a patient's room? And address me properly while we're at work," the person reprimanded, while rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a lab coat– with a stethoscope inside its breast pocket– over his formal attire. What stood out the most about him were the green hair and the taped fingers of his left hand.

 _Is he injured or something?_ Mayuzumi wondered. He read the tag on the doctor's coat. _Midorima._

"Sorry, sorry," Takao said, scratching the back of his head. He turned to Mayuzumi. "Anyway, Shin-chan's here now, so I'll be leaving." He moved closer to Mayuzumi, and whispered, his right hand beside his mouth. "He might be a bit harsh on his words, but don't worry. He's just being a tsundere."

"Takao!"

"Yes, yes," Takao defeatedly raised both of his hands. Soon after that, he left the room.

"That idiot," Midorima sighed as he adjusted his glasses. He pulled a chair beside Mayuzumi's bed and sat. "How are you feeling?" He asked pointing on a button of his own shirt as a sign for Mayuzumi to take off his.

Mayuzumi did so. "Like hell," he said the same way he answered Takao earlier. He slipped his shirt halfway to his back.

"More specifically?" Midorima pulled out the stethoscope, and wore the earpiece. He leaned closer to Mayuzumi and placed the diaphragm to Mayuzumi's chest, before moving it to his back.

The coldness of the chestpiece caused Mayuzumi to flinch. "My head hurts like hell, and I really want to puke right now, but I'm not sure if I will even puke something. My limbs also, sort of, feel like something is stuck between them," he said.

Midorima returned to his seat, and placed the device back to his breast pocket. He picked up the clipboard he was carrying earlier, and wrote something down.

"Is something wrong with me?" Mayuzumi finally decided to ask.

"Are you on drugs or any form of medications?" The greenette doctor asked.

"Do you mean prescription drugs or 'drugs' as in narcotic drugs?" Mayuzumi raised an eyebrow at the question.

"Either," Midorima simply replied, not even bothering to look up from the clipboard.

"I'm taking… antidepressants, but it isn't something serious, I swear. I'm under proper medication," Mayuzumi answered.

Midorima stopped writing, and, finally, he raised his head. "What type?"

"SSRI *****. Sertraline," Mayuzumi replied replied.

Midorima visibly stiffened. "How sure are you that you aren't addicted?"

"Tsk. I told you, I'm not! The prescription stopped about two weeks ago." It was true. Mayuzumi was finally allowed to take a vacation, without everyone around him worrying that he might kill himself if he left without anyone else with him, but that was ruined. So, fuck that. Fuck everything.

"Is that so?" Midorima returned to scribbling something on his clipboard.

Mayuzumi was honestly holding on his urge to take a peek at what the greenette doctor has been writing. "What am I doing here?"

"I believe, Takao already told you that you were admitted yesterday."

 _What the fuck!? So, he was listening?_ "That's not what my question meant. Why am I admitted here?"

Midorima sighed, placing his clipboard on his lap. "We found traces of drug in your system, and it wasn't Zoloft," he said. "I was about to narrow it down to drug addiction, but, from the looks of it, it wasn't."

Mayuzumi raised his voice at the revelation. "What the actual– Of course, it wasn't drug addiction! I'm not a fucking junkie! Do I even look like one!?"

Midorima didn't reply.

"Oi!"

Midorima fixed his glasses. "Calm down or you'll aggravate your condition," he told Mayuzumi. He stood up, and pushed the stool to the side. "For the meantime, your relative, Nijimura-san, I believe was his name, said that it's better for you recuperate here. You'll be released in two days time."

Before Mayuzumi could even ask why the fuck Nijimura was listed as his relative-slash-guardian, the greenette doctor had already left the room. "That fucker," he cursed. He hid under the blanket, while devising ways about how he could get back at Nijimura.

He noted how he will be put to medication. Again. And how it sucks.

So much for his dream to have some fucking time to relax.

* * *

"I-I don't know–" Kuroko stuttered a reply. He clenched his jaws. The sound of his gulp was heavy in his ears.

Akashi sighed. Shaking his head, he gave the bluenette a knowing grin. "My, my, Tetsuya. We can't have that." He knew how good-natured Kuroko was. The bluenette couldn't lie. Not to him. Not to anyone else.

Kuroko remained quiet.

Akashi wasn't one to pull out underhanded tactics, but he deemed it necessary to use that card now. "Ogiwara Shigehiro." He made it sound as rude as possible to agitate Kuroko, but he still maintained his calm mien. He believed that mentioning the latest victims' names will push the bluenette to the verge of confessing. It pained him how he has to do it, but he has no other choice. He has to do this or someone else's life will be in danger. Kuroko might be put in the very same situation, and he couldn't let that happen. Not now. Not again.

Kuroko tensed up. _How come?_ A thick cloud of regret began to form in his chest. No. He couldn't back down now. He had already decided to dye his hands with blood– with _that person's_ blood, and only _that person's_.

"Hanamiya Makoto," Akashi said, noticing the silent gasp Kuroko let out as he spoke.

 _No. It wasn't my–_ Kuroko bit his lip. The memories came back to him, haunting him, playing in a loop inside his head. No. He couldn't let the panic consume him. His fists curled up on his lap. He squeezed his eyes shut, and willed himself to calm down.

Akashi prepared himself for the next victim's name. "Mayuzumi Chihiro," he almost bit his tongue as he said it. To think, that Mayuzumi will be targeted as well. _Was Mayuzumi involved? How? If he wasn't, then who was the snitch? Was everything that has been happening lately just a ploy to something even bigger? If it was, then what was it?_

"Who?" Kuroko's voice broke through Akashi's focus.

Akashi quirked an eyebrow. _Who? What does he mean?_ "Mayuzumi Chihiro," he repeated. "He works at the MPD," he added. He was sure Kuroko has the idea about the occupations of his supposed "clients."

An ambiguous look crossed Kuroko's face. "I… don't know him," he muttered.

 _There._ "So, you know the others?" Akashi asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Kuroko replied with a gasp, realizing the slip of the tongue he had just made.

"Tetsuya, I need you to help me in this," Akashi carefully said.

Kuroko let out a subdued laugh. He lowered his head, his chin touching his chest. "Then, what happens after? You'll lock me up, won't you?"

"Don't tempt me," Akashi murmured under his breath.

Kuroko blinked in confusion. "What?" He didn't catch Akashi's reply.

"I said, I won't. Tell me, how are you involved in all of these? What's your connection with Yellow Diamond?"

Kuroko felt like a mouse trapped on all four corners of Akashi's room. He gripped the blanket covering his thighs. He placed a hand to his chest, and closed his eyes. "If I tell you, what are you going to do?" _I couldn't even–_ He internally mocked his own weakness. He couldn't even do anything about it. How could the redhead even do something about it? He felt conflicted. He just met the other, and he couldn't put someone else's life at stake, again, because of his mistake.

 _I'll kill those involved._ Akashi wanted to say, but decided not to. The least he wanted to do right now was to scare the bluenette off. Though, of course, he will do just that. "I'll save you," he said, instead. It was, after all, the very reason for his existence.

Kuroko blinked as if trying to process what Akashi had said. Slowly, he lifted his head, and, for the very first time, since he woke up, he met the burning colors of Akashi's mismatched irises.

"I'm going to save you, Tetsuya."

* * *

" _So, you're throwing everything away just like that?" His voice was trembling as he asked. It was a mixture of trying to pull away from_ _ **him**_ _, and trying to make_ _ **him**_ _stay._

"…" _**He**_ _didn't reply._

" _Are you saying that the past years you spent with me aren't important to you as they are to me?"_

"…" _Another silence._

_He lowered his head, his bangs concealing the wet tracks that stained his ivory cheeks. "Why are you keeping quiet?" It hurt so much that he wanted to run past_ _**him** _ _, and just jump off to his demise._

_The wind softly blew, mocking him with fake fondness as it caressed his skin._

_Do you not love me anymore? He wanted to ask, but the words were stuck to his throat which was now dry and scratchy as he forced his sobs back inside of him._

_Silent footsteps approached him._

" _I'm sorry," he heard_ _ **him**_ _whisper, when_ _ **he**_ _reached his side._

_**He** _ _couldn't be doing this…_

_Still,_ _**he** _ _continued past him._

" _Wait–" he hastily turned, but what he saw was just a murky image of_ _ **him**_ _behind his tears._ _ **He**_ _was leaving. This is it. It's over. He wasn't even listening to me... How come? Why?_

_The sound of the metal door clanged as it closed, leaving him to console himself for having a piece of himself broken._

_He fell to his knees, and, finally, he let out his sobs. It was the very first time he had cried that much. The façade he had created to protect himself– the walls he had surrounded himself with– was, little by little, crushed into pieces as he wept._

_He hated himself for being weak. He hated himself for letting just_ _**one person** _ _take everything he has… everything he was. He hated how much he still loves_ _**that person** _ _, despite everything. He still loves_ _**him** _ _. He wasn't even sure if he could stop loving_ _**him** _ _. He wasn't sure if he would ever stop loving_ _**him** _ _. He knew he couldn't._

_**He** _ _was his everything._

_That night, the sky was starless as if it had already prepared to lament for that devastating event._

_._

_._

_._

_From the other side of the door,_ _**he** _ _silently listened to his cries. "I'm sorry,"_ _**he** _ _repeatedly muttered with gritted teeth,_ _**his** _ _voice as broken as_ _**his** _ _entire being– as broken as_ _**his** _ _soul._

" _I'm sorry."_

_**He** _ _still loves him. And_ _**he** _ _wouldn't ever stop loving him._

_But, he will never know._

_He wasn't supposed to know._

_Not now._

_Not ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** SSRI - Selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors. It is a class of drug used for treating depression and anxiety disorders.
> 
> I got too carried away while writing this. I actually teared up. I can't believe myself. OMFG– _*clenches chest*_
> 
> If anyone's confused, this happened the next day after the last chapter. Also, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I don't bite. lol
> 
> Do also check out my other ongoing AkaKuro fic: **Missing Pieces **! I updated it last week!****


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like always, thank you for all the love and support you're giving this fic!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed, a little bit of violence (and evidence of how much I suck at writing these scenes) and mentions of suicide attempt. Sorry.

_What, for fuck's sake, is wrong with this world!?_ Mayuzumi clucked in annoyance as he shifted underneath the thin blanket of the hospital bed. _Me? On fucking narcotics?_ The very thought sent a shiver down his spines. He hated it. He hated any kinds of drug, be it for medication or for different purposes.

Mayuzumi wasn't fond of consuming such unnaturally prepared– or created– medicament. _Fucking Nijimura! He should've just told them about my work! I don't "use" drugs. I "study" if people had used them! That asshole! And why the fuck is he even my relative? We don't look fucking alike!_ He felt a cold sweat dribble down his temple. _That's disgusting!_

Mayuzumi returned to wondering how he ended up in his current situation. He was supposed to be working– no matter how much he hated it– in his laboratory or his desk in his godforsaken office. He wasn't supposed to be recuperating on a fucking hospital bed.

The afternoon sun outside has started to set, dyeing the sky with shades of orange, magenta, and night blue. The scenery was delicately captured on the only window present in the gray-haired coroner's hospital room. It was beautiful, but Mayuzumi couldn't care less.

He has more important things to do– one, being to know how he ended up here. But, first, he has to make sure if his suspicions were correct. He wasn't as foolhardy and impetuous as someone he knew to just dive headfirst in the rogue's den. He wasn't that stupid.

He has someone he needed to contact first. He needed to alert _him_ – _them_ – especially with their enemy lurking so, very, close… and about to bite them. However, again, he wasn't exactly sure about it yet. That was why he has to investigate everything first, and he knew he needed _his_ assistance. He inwardly puked at the thought.

He unconsciously clicked his tongue in annoyance. He wasn't one to start a conversation, so phoning _him_ up, just the very thought of that, was totally outrageous.

 _But, you have to._ He told himself. He has to. And, maybe, he would confront him about his situation, before ending the call.

In the middle of his thoughts, all of a sudden, an unwelcomed sound pierced through. He peered behind the blanket with a glare, and turned his head to the side. His phone was ringing. He was thankful that he had been allowed to keep his phone with him.

Fucking Nijimura and the strings he controls.

Mayuzumi reluctantly sat up and picked it up. His eyes slightly lit up, when he saw who the caller was. This just saved him the trouble of establishing the conversation.

He pressed the accept button.

"Mayuzumi-fucking-Chihiro here."

* * *

A unusually tall man with golden-blond hair, medium in length, strode haughtily across the small crowd. His expression was stern, but his equally deep lustrous yellow eyes glinted condescendingly as he looked down on the dressed personnel of the bar, looming his six foot or so figure above them. The light-yellow dress shirt he was wearing had two buttons open– on his collar and upper chest– revealing a tribal tattoo that stretched from his neck and slithered down his left shoulder, and the toned muscles underneath the pressed fabric. The air around him spoke volumes of authority.

Behind him, two of his lackeys stood with their backs straight, following his every step, holding the same extent of arrogance. On his left was a tall, dark-skinned, muscular man with a black hair in the form of a buzz cut, while a similarly tanned man, shorter than the other, with a bald head stood on his right. They both wore a proud, supercilious look on their faces. Demeaning.

As they reached a semi-circular sofa, the one in the most lighted part of the dimly lit establishment, the golden-haired man spoke, his voice cold and superior. "Zack," he called out, his accent American, as he gestured his head to the ones who were occupying the seat.

The one on his right rushed forward, dominating with his height the evidently drunk occupants of the leather couch. "Hey," he began threateningly, "mind choosing some other space to waste?" He pointed to the circular table below his tall figure, his finger reflecting on the polished glass. "This place belongs to us."

"Hah!? What d'you mean 't belongs to you? We're 'ere first, so fuck off!" One of the two men– the one pouring some sort of liquor on an empty glass– sitting on the couch slurred, his reddish eyes narrowed at the three men as he tipped his half-filled glass toward them.

The golden-haired man's eyelids lowered, his expression seething, his irises glinting as if he had just been rubbed the wrong way.

The man on his left seemed to have noticed this. He swallowed thickly, before prodding himself forward. He snatched the glass from the inebriated man, causing the other to jump startlingly, because of the uncouth action. With a browbeat smile, he coerced, "We don't want anything bad happening now, do we?"

"Give 't back!" The debauched man groused furiously at how he had just been treated as he attempted to get his drink back.

The man with the buzz cut just taunted him even more, shaking the glass in front of him.

"Now, you've dunnit, you fucker!"

The taller dark-skinned man crashed the glass on the drunken man's head, before driving the latter's face hard on the table.

The inebriated man cried out in pain as he felt the broken pieces of the glass got embedded deeply into his skin, effectively washing away his drunken stupor.

His companion– the one who appeared to have a good hold of his liquor– abruptly stood up, pushing the girl he had been audaciously touching, one who was dressed rather inappropriately, aside. He stepped out of the semi-circular couch and faced the three, despite his height a few inches shorter than them. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, you assholes!?" He reached for the taller dark-skinned man with his fist, but the other just lolled his head to the side, completely evading the attack. "Shit!" He tried to send another punch, but, this time, the man caught his fist.

The taller dark-skinned man, with his right hand, gripped the other's fist tighter, before slowly turning it outwardly. Without warning, with his pliers-grip, he forcibly twisted, creating a loud snap which instantly died down as the loud music escalated.

The other crumbled to his knees, holding his left wrist, as he bellowed in rage while glaring at the tall man with a peculiar hair.

The golden-haired man was ignorant about their exchange. He walked forward in derisive steps. His arm bumped with one of his lackeys, but he didn't appear to care. As soon as he was in front of the man kneeling on the floor, he offered a hand.

The man stared in confusion, but, in spur of the moment, reached for the hand with his uninjured one, the other one pressed on the tiled floor for support. However, out of the blue, something strong and heavy pressed against his left hand, grinding, crushing his already swollen fingers. The surge of pain made him see white, and he crumpled to the floor even more. He heard an amused laughter which turned his blood into ice with every breath.

"You suit the floor better like that. Monkeys need to learn where they stand." The golden-haired man, unimpressed, looked down at the other as he continued to grind his foot harder on the other's hand, eliciting more cries of pain.

The taller dark-skinned man gripped the hair of his companion– the one whose face was still on the table– and forced him to look at him. He pulled the other out of the couch and threw him to the floor, right beside him.

The girl hurriedly attempted to flee while fixing her revealing dress, but a strong grasp on her wrist made her stop. She turned with a jump, and saw the bald man smiling menacingly like a mad dog about to feast on something– on her– who had her left wrist secured. She tried to wriggle his wrist free, despite knowing that it was a futile attempt.

"S-Stop it! P-Please, we're going to leave already, s-so please stop!" The man whose hand was still being crushed by the golden-haired man's foot pleaded as he punched the latter's burnished shoe with his other free hand, trying to remove it, but the action only caused the foot to get driven to his hand even more. He cursed in pain.

The golden-haired man sighed, lessening the force on his foot. "What an embarrassing display. I thought monkeys were more than… this," he closed his lustrous gold eyes. A disappointed look crossed his face as he opened them. "Allen," he said, finally retreating his foot. He walked back, and slipped into the couch. With a loud crashing sound, he plunked his foot on the table, and hung his arms on the couch's backrest.

The taller dark-skinned man, at the other's beck and call, grabbed the man by his collar. "We tipped you off, but you didn't heed our warning," he said as he disappointedly shook his head, also completely not amused by the situation. As he was about to send one final blow on the man's face, a sullen voice interrupted him.

"Stop it. You're creating a scene," someone said, annoyance evident in the tone of the person's voice, followed by the click of a tongue.

The golden-haired man raised his head, and looked intently at the gray-haired man standing in front of him. "Why, if it isn't my little trained seal. How have you been?" He asked with a grin.

The light gray-haired man answered, completely undisturbed by the way he had just been referred to. "You know best than to attract attention," he said as he took the two guests by their arms. He forced them to his feet, the act surprising the two as they wondered how the man was able to pull them up like they were nothing. He shoved the two toward a burly man with a short beard and a hair that has two stripes on both sides of his head.

The tall, muscular man, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, disappeared in a similar manner with the two guests in tow.

"You should've informed us, before going here," the gray-haired man said, unyielding.

The golden-haired man narrowed his eyes. "I can do whatever I want. You may be working for me, but you're a monkey all the same."

"Just a different breed, more or less," the man with the buzz cut, who was now sitting on the golden-haired man's left, wittingly added. The golden-haired man squinted at him, causing him to advertently shut up and avert his gaze. He was now looking at the bloody mess staining the glass table, but he didn't appear to be fazed by it.

"I just think it's better to be cautious, especially with Silver's recent actions," the gray-haired man argued, without looking at the one he was conversing with.

"All I know is that you should be thankful that I'm letting you talk back to me like this. If I didn't, you wouldn't be breathing the same air as us. You would long be a decaying corpse already," the golden-haired man replied.

The gray-haired man stood stiffly, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. This was one of the reasons he hated meeting their boss. He was too conceited and self-important. He reminded him of someone.

The fact that his boss' name was even taken from the most precious metal in history, especially in its purest form– Gold– was something he couldn't understand, nor accept. After all, this gold in front of him was corrupted. The gold in front of him was the very definition of malevolence

" _Where's_ ***** Silver?" Gold asked, brushing off the gray-haired man's disrespectful attitude.

"He has ascended the _Third Sphere_ ***** as you have directed," the gray-haired man answered. "Hara Kazuya ****** had played his part," he added. Everything has been staged by the evil in front of him.

"You do know that useless monkeys need to be immediately disposed of, don't you?"

"That had already been taken care of, also, to your instructions."

"Good." Gold moved his eyes to the person standing behind the gray-haired man. "And, what about you? What brings you here?"

The gray-haired man moved to his side, letting the other to step out of the dark and grace their leader with his unimportant– compared to the ones before him– presence. After all, he had just joined them a few weeks ago, and he still wasn't exactly sure how it happened. What mattered most was that he was now close to them, and he could watch their every move. Everything he would do from that day onward would be for their downfall… for their demise. He wouldn't forgive them for killing him… for killing his only family. It would be the sweetest revenge for him–for them– to die by his hands... without them even knowing.

"Won't you have a seat with us?" Gold offered, gesturing his hand on the empty space of the semi-circular couch.

Still and all, the other knew better than to accept it.

* * *

" _Don't worry, we'll save you."_

_He was trapped. The four corners of the room were suffocating him. An uneven breath escaped his lips. He was trembling, his body embraced by the cold, dank floor. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to contain the remaining warmth in his body._

_He hated the darkness. He hated being alone. He hated being abandoned._

" _The darkness is fearsome… but it will always be a part of us." He chanted like a mantra inside his head._

_**His** _ _voice resounded inside his head. "The darkness is fearsome. We all have it inside of us, but it is our choice if we're going to accept it… or if we're going to let it consume us."_

_He was afraid. So, very, afraid that he couldn't even lift a finger._

_His parents were hailed celebrities in the field of Medical Science. It was because of them why he was in his current situation._

_He has been kidnapped. He thought it only occurred in books and in movies, but the reality punched him straight to his face._

_It happened on his way home from the university, while he had just gotten out of the bookstore. Everything happened so fast, that he had no time to react. The fact that his kidnappers noticed him was something he couldn't even comprehend._

_How was it even possible? He wondered. After all, he always made sure to take the safest paths._

" _Don't worry. We'll save you." He could hear_ _ **him**_ _promise through the end of the line, when his kidnappers contacted his family. "I'll save you."_

_It had been two days, since then._

_He hadn't eaten anything, nor had he drunk any fluids. His throat felt dry and scratchy. The constant rumbling of his stomach had been the only sign that he was still alive. He was too out of it to listen to his own breath or to feel the pounding of his own heart._

_He felt weak._

_**He** _ _was the last person he saw that day, before everything turned black. That unfortunate moment was the second time they got to look at each other's eyes. To him, it was as if everything around him stopped in an instant. It felt as if the two of them were the only persons in the world._

_True to_ _**his** _ _words,_ _**he** _ _did save him._

_**He** _ _came._

_**He** _ _found him._

_The very moment the steel doors opened, as the comforting rays shone on his savior like a gentle embrace, he realized._

_Loud thumping sounds filled his chest._

_He felt alive._

_It hurt._

_It hurt._

_It hurt, but he liked how full he felt._

_He had just read about something similar to his condition a few weeks ago. A misattributed feeling when one experiences the effects of fear of a physical danger while meeting someone, mistakenly believing that the feeling was caused by that person._

_But, he knew_ _– he believed–_ _it wasn't like that. What he felt wasn't that._

_He has been looking at_ _**him** _ _, since the very first time he laid his eyes upon_ _**him** _ _… since the very first time he had known_ _**him** _ _._

_He has been in love with_ _**him** _ _, since the very beginning._

_And this incident just made him fall for_ _**him** _ _even more._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

" _Don't worry. I'll save you."_

_**He** _ _lied._ _**He** _ _lied to him. How many times did that broken promise make? Ten? Twenty? He had already lost count._

" _Don't worry. I'll save you."_

_He could still remember_ _**his** _ _promise from that time._

" _I'll save you."_

_Where was_ _**he** _ _now? Nowhere. He doesn't even know._

_Where did everything go wrong?_

_How did this happen?_

_Was it his fault?_

_Or was it_ _**his** _ _?_

_**He** _ _was too perfect to make a mistake, so he knew_ _– he believed– he was the cause._

_**He** _ _had lied to him over and over… and over… But, how come, he couldn't help but still love_ _**him** _ _?_

_**He** _ _was gone._

_It had been years, since_ _**he** _ _left… since_ _**he** _ _left him broken… since_ _**he** _ _left him devastated._

_He was a wreck in all those years_ _**he** _ _wasn't by his side._

_And, now, he was the reason why many people felt the same way as he did… as he still does._

_It was his fault._

_It was all his fault._

_He had caused this. He had caused this madness._

_Everything._

_He was tired._

_So, very, tired._

_He just wanted everything to end._

_He wanted no more of this cruel world._

_He couldn't do any of this anymore._

_Living. Breathing._

_He pressed the sharp edge of a knife just below his throat._

_A brutal death for someone as evil as him…_

_Truly, a fitting end, indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** Just some Paradiso reference. _*cough*_ If you're curious what it meant, just look up the 9 Spheres of Heaven.
> 
>  ****** If you guys still remember, he was the one from chapter 9.
> 
> Okay, so I found out about the names of the other members of Team Jabberwock (Zack, Nick, and Allen) in KnB's wikia page, but I'm not sure who's who, so I just based their appearance on the character descriptions, that's why it's very… repetitive. Lol
> 
> I'm very sorry that I have to cut the AkaKuro suspense from the last chapter… to increase the suspense even more.
> 
> And OH MY GOD I just saw a post about the AkaKuro movie date on the KnB game Cross Colors. FUCKING CANON LOVEBIRDS AAAAHHHHHH–
> 
> PS. I don't hate monkeys.


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed. :3

_He fell in love with that red._

_By the time he realized everything, his eyes had already been following_ _**him** _ _. He had always ever seen just_ _**him** _ _. Only_ _**him** _ _._

 _He had loved that burning color_ _–_ _those pretty jewels which seemed too perfect on_ _**him,** _ _on_ _**his** _ _eyes. It felt as if one look of_ _**his** _ _could set him ablaze in an instant. It felt as if he would crumble away every time_ _**he** _ _glanced his way, even if_ _**he** _ _didn't mean to, even though_ _**he** _ _wasn't even precisely looking at him._

_It was complicated. It was strange._

_And, strangely, he loved how strange it was._

_Strangely perfect._

_**He** _ _was too perfect… for everything… for anything… for him._

_._

_._

_._

_Everything seemed perfect when_ _**he** _ _touched his hand._

 _Everything seemed perfect when_ _**he** _ _pulled him close._

 _Everything seemed perfect when_ _**he** _ _locked him in_ _**his** _ _arms._

 _Everything seemed perfect when_ _**he** _ _kissed him._

 _Everything seemed perfect when_ _**he** _ _gave himself to_ _**him** _ _._

" _Seemed…"_

_._

_._

_._

_Because, it was over._

_Everything._

_**Him**._

_Gone._

* * *

_"I'm going to save you, Tetsuya."_

The words reverberated inside Kuroko's head like the beat of a looped song playing on a broken recorder.

_"I'm going to save you, Tetsuya."_

He felt his stomach lurch in disgust… for himself… because he really never learned.

_"I'm going to save you, Tetsuya."_

It made him want to just simply end everything.

 _Save me?_ Kuroko honestly wanted to laugh. Whether he was going insane or was amused, he has no idea. How could the redhead save him like what he said he was intending to do, when he couldn't even do it himself? It made his lungs constrict achingly. He wanted everything to just simply shut down. His ears. His mind. His heart. Everything.

Ogino– or whatever the hell his name was– was a stranger, and he was telling him that he would save him? He wouldn't be fooled by the same words over again, then get betrayed like… like before. Like those countless times he had been told the same thing by his "clients." He wouldn't get fooled anymore.

Kuroko laughed.

Akashi furrowed his eyebrows, but for whatever reason he wasn't sure. He was worried, because of the way Kuroko's voice sounded– forced, cracking; it didn't suit the bluenette. He was amused, because he was laughing. Kuroko Tetsuya was laughing. Kuroko only oftentimes ever did that before– before, when they were…

The most Kuroko did was smile. Smile back at him. At _them_. He was annoyed, because Kuroko appeared to be making fun of his offer… of his words… of his sole reason for living… of his only reason for being alive.

Kuroko's laughter ceased. He let out a dragged breath which Akashi thought would never end, and questioned in a voice that was so low Akashi strained his ears to hear. "How can you even do that, when I can't?"

Akashi swore he could hear the tears, the sadness, from the way the bluenette spoke.

"How will you even do that?" Kuroko asked, pain lacing his monotonous voice. He choked back a sob as he clenched the thin fabric that was supposed to warm him up. Unfortunately, warming himself up was the least of his concerns, at the moment.

Akashi felt his heart get crushed. _What have they done to him?_ It was all he could ask himself as he curled his fists, his fingers digging into his palms. He unconsciously made a growling sound as he gritted his teeth. "Don't you trust me?" He asked, his voice trembling.

Kuroko tittered once. "Trust is a big word, Ogino-kun. I have long since forgotten how that thing works."

"But, you did trust me," Akashi replied. There was no hint of hesitation in his voice. Kuroko trusted him. That was all that mattered.

Yes, he did. Kuroko believed him. He followed him to his house which was totally stupid of him, then what happened? He drugged him for reasons he couldn't even begin to comprehend. It took Kuroko a few moments to speak. "Maybe, I did," he said. "Maybe, I didn't," he added.

"Yes, you did." Akashi pressed, still no hint of diffidence both in his expression and the way his voice sounded.

"Then, what? You drugged me?" Kuroko lifted his head, holding Akashi's reticent gaze, and, to be honest, he felt small under the icy stare.

"Tetsuya," Akashi began. He placed his knee on the bed, making it creak, causing the tense atmosphere to rise even more. Without warning, he laid his index finger on Kuroko's cheek, wiping the invisible track of tears that stained the latter's smooth skin.

Kuroko shivered at the touch.

Akashi quietly gasped. His heart clenched at the bluenette's cold expression. Empty. Broken. "I know it was wrong of me to approach you in such an uncivil manner, but I don't know how I should." _Not when you're finally right in front of me_. "I apologize if it frightened you… if I had frightened you. But, please… Please, do believe me when I say that I did it for your own welfare. So that you could recuperate, even if only for a short time." _So that you wouldn't try to leave. Not until I know everything about you... about everything that had happened._ "Please, trust me," Akashi said. He wasn't one to throw the word "please" so casually, but he deemed it necessary to do so. He has to persuade Kuroko, and he will do it by all means. Even if it meant lowering himself.

Akashi's hand was warm, and it made a certain kind of feeling pool deep inside of Kuroko's chest. He wondered what it was. Fear? Distress? Apprehension? He felt as if he was being enticed into a trap– a trap that has no escape, one that will hold him captive forever– but he… he wanted to get caught. He felt like an insect beguiled by a familiar warmth– something that he couldn't point out. "I…" _I won't._ He wanted to say. _I can't._ He had already decided that he wouldn't trust anyone anymore. Not in this lifetime. Not ever. _I shouldn't._ He knew he shouldn't. His lips trembled as he tried to form a coherent response. He couldn't.

Akashi's thumb traced Kuroko's lower lip. He noted how soft it was, how good it felt against his skin. His lips curled up into a small smile. "I won't leave you again, Tetsuya," he said, unwavering. _Ever._

"…What?" Kuroko felt his eyes stung. Did he hear Akashi correctly? He quivered as the other continued to touch his face as if he was something– someone– precious. He watched in awe as Akashi's frosty expression slowly softened. He was looking at him in a way that he couldn't even begin to think to be something disgusting. The redhead was different. He was different from the others... from _them_. It was absurd how he could still think of that– how he was still able to find it in him to believe someone. He was on the verge of letting Akashi have his way and let him pull him by the leash.

So close… So close…

Kuroko wanted to lean his face in that warmth. He was holding on to the thinnest end of his reason.

Akashi felt Kuroko's walls slowly fall to pieces in his fingers. Just a bit more and he would return to him. Just a bit more… "Please, trust me, Tetsuya," he pleaded, his voice were solemn as if the words he spoke were meant as a prayer.

Kuroko, for the very first time, since he woke up two years ago, finally let himself cry in front of someone else like tomorrow was never going to come. Akashi cupped his face.

Akashi rubbed his thumb on Kuroko's cheeks. It was affectionate, bewitching, entrancing.

Kuroko nodded.

Akashi felt Kuroko's every movement with each tip of his fingers. His heart tightened. Kuroko was the only person who could ever make him feel this way. No matter how many times may pass, Kuroko was the only one. He quietly let out a breath of relief which he didn't think he was even holding. _That's one thing done._

Kuroko blinked the tears away, clearing his vision as he continued to confine Akashi's gaze. He looked at him as if he was engraving each and every corner of the redhead's face deep within his memory. _This would be the last time._ He inwardly told himself. This would be the last time he would trust someone. If the person in front of him failed him… betrayed him… he doesn't know what he would do. He was sure he wouldn't be able to continue any longer… He wouldn't be able to continue anymore. This would be the last time. And if everything else failed– he would end everything.

Akashi's expression lightened as he carried on with his ministrations. Slowly, he lowered his head, and, without any kinds of preparatory measures, softly pressed his lips against Kuroko's.

Kuroko let him. Unconsciously, he closed his eyes, hoping that his decision was right. _I'm so sorry..._ He told himself. _For everything…_ He wasn't sure why he thought of that, but he knew his words were meant to console himself. He was weak to this kind of warmth. The redhead was both as cold as ice and as warm as flame. He was a living incongruity.

The two of them shared no rough kisses. Just Akashi's lips against Kuroko's.

Akashi subtly peered through the haze. He saw that Kuroko has his eyes closed. He felt himself melt… wither away… get blown by the beauty of the man named Kuroko Tetsuya for who knows how many times…

He recognized the tender emotion upwelling inside his chest– painfully endearing.

Everything about Kuroko felt like the first time.

* * *

The lights giving life to the night hundreds of feet below appeared like stars on earth. Literally, stars on earth. The buildings down below created the silhouette of a preempted gloaming, the semblance of a foreshadowed event.

His flat was located among the tallest buildings in Tokyo. His bedroom was dimmed so as to not cause his eyes to hurt. He has been spending night after night cooped up in his specialized workplace– his personal laboratory– because of the situation at hand. The case might be leaning on his forte, but he wasn't one of the players in the field. He performed best when it involved analysis more than physical exploitations.

He didn't realize that he has been looking past his reflection on the glass wall of his bedroom. All curtains were raised, tied halfway. He wasn't even bothered by the fact that he was standing without any clothes to cover him. His perfectly toned muscles were basked in the shadows casted by the streaming moonlight from the large windows. He wasn't worried about being seen, because his apartment was located tens of floors from the ground. It was one of the perks of having chosen the suite, despite the exorbitant rent.

Out of the blue, a muffled sound broke through his concentration. The sound, he knew, was his phone's ringtone. The distinct vibration and the sound of the drums gave it away. He hated the ear-splitting music, but his lover just wouldn't let him change it.

He walked back to his bed, and sat on one side. He groped for his phone and found it teetering on the edge of the cushions, about to fall. He checked the caller's name. He narrowed his eyes and grumbled.

It was _him_ again.

He debated over answering the call and pretending to be asleep.

The first time _he_ had asked his help– which was to perform a laboratory test for _him_ – he was completely alarmed… flummoxed. The substance in his hand, the sample _he_ had given him went past the very definition of dangerous. Ha had no idea what it could cause when consumed, but he knew that numbers don't lie. Never. The drug went beyond being harmful.

He slid his fingers on the screen, accepting the call. "What is it this time?" He asked, his voice sounding anything but welcoming.

" _Anything new?"_ the person on the other end asked.

It was his old friend. Not that _he_ was actually old, nor was _he_ actually his friend. He frowned in disgust at the cordial term he had just used to describe _him_. He didn't just think of that. He doesn't understand why his friend was so stressed out about their current case. To be honest, he really doesn't want to help _him_ , because that would mean splitting the pay, if ever they did succeed– no, after they had succeeded.

The case was given to him by one of the group's informants, a few days ago. It was rather demanding compared to the other cases he had been given before, and he internally argued whether he should accept it or not. Not that he actually had a choice.

"There's a new victim," he replied.

" _What!?"_ the voice sounded overly flabbergasted by his revelation. There was a clunk on the other line, the sound of something falling, he thought.

He moved the phone away from his ears. _God, does he ever know what his loud voice could do to people's ears?_ He answered his own question. _No, he doesn't. Definitely._

" _Who's it this time?"_ the person on the other end asked, disturbance still evident in _his_ voice.

"Someone from the MPD, I believe. He's working in the FBO, based on his records."

_"What the actual– He's actually working at my fucking– How could that even slip my–"_

He had already expected the outburst this time, so he took the initiative to bring the phone away from his ears. This so-called friend of his still doesn't appear to be as canny as someone of _his_ age should be. It was kind of disappointing how he got acquainted with someone like _him_. "This obviously means that–"

The other person didn't let him finish. _"Inside work."_

He nodded. He inwardly slapped himself. How could _he_ know that he had agreed? They were talking through a fucking phone. "Correct," he said.

 _"Shit,"_ the person on the other end cursed. _He_ clicked _his_ tongue. _"Shit,"_ _he_ repeated, louder this time. _"How the fuck did that even happen? He was the one presiding over–"_

 _How the fuck am I supposed to answer that? I'm not a cop like you._ He wanted to say. He sighed, instead. "I don't know, but I think he already has an idea about it."

_"He must be pissed."_

_Obviously._

_"Anyway,"_ the voice began. _"Just, you know… Just phone me up, when something comes up again."_

 _As if I will ever do that._ He didn't reply.

 _"Oh, yeah. As if you will ever fucking do that. I will call you soon,"_ the person on the other end of the line said. _"And, you know… thank you."_

His eyes bulged at the other's words. He almost choked on his own spit. He honestly wanted to vomit, but kept himself from doing so. "Stop that. It's disgusting."

 _"Whatever. Just… Really, man. I appreciate it. We really appreciate all the help,"_ the voice said. _"Also, we'll tell you everything, after this shit's over. I promise."_

He inwardly sighed. _So, I'm still left in the dark. Good. I appreciate the treatment._ "Fine… Fine. Just hang up already."

_"Why don't you hang up?"_

"I don't want to have bad luck for the rest of my life. Meeting you– Meeting them was more than enough."

_"Asshole. You and your quirky obsession."_

He made a sneering sound.

_"You must be fucking your–"_

He pressed the end call button. Fuck bad luck. He couldn't take speaking to the other person for another second. He couldn't bear to listen to _his_ explicit language.

He turned off his phone just to be sure and placed it on the nightstand.

With a sigh, he lolled his head back. He gulped. The slow movement of his exposed throat was plain in view.

He turned his head to his left, and drank the beautiful image before him. He shuffled and prepared to lie back beside the sleeping figure.

His lover.

He propped himself on one of his elbows and lifted the blanket. He covered both his and his lover's body, the downy fleece ghosting over their bare skin. He put his arm around his lover's waist, wrapping the other within an embrace that was meant to protect his lover from anything… from everything.

He had seen more than enough to know the cruelties of this world.

He closed his eyes and listened to his lover's soft, even breaths.

His lover shuffled closer to him, their bare skins touching– his lover's back against his chest.

He lovingly nuzzled his lover's raven hair.

Takao groaned in his sleep.

Midorima's lips uncharacteristically quirked upwards, ever so slightly nobody would even notice.

Fuck bad luck. He already has everything he could ask for.

* * *

 _**He** _ _came back._

_Oh, god._

_**He** _ _came back._

 _**He** _ _came back, but_ _**he** _ _was different._

_He didn't know who the person kneeling in front of him was._

_He didn't know the person who was hugging him._

_He didn't know the person whose lips were locked with his._

_He didn't know_ _**him** _ _._

 _But, when he saw_ _**him** _ _, it felt as if everything_ _– about_ _**him** _ _, about himself, about them– had_ _repeated itself. It was as if everything were right again._

_It felt like the first time._

_He had fallen in love all over again._

_With the same person._

_With a different person._

_**He** _ _was the same, yet_ _**he** _ _was different._

 _**He** _ _was truly a contradiction… a contradiction of everything_ _– the only conundrum that could ever make his heart flutter, that could ever take his breath away, that could ever make his world stop in a single glance._

 _He fell in love with the color of_ _**his** _ _eyes– a mismatched pair of red and gold. It was like the color of war and peace, of blood and sunset– of a sunset dyed with blood; it was beautiful._

 _**His** _ _eyes looked perfect._

 _**He** _ _was perfect._

 _Everything about_ _**him** _ _was beyond perfect._

 _Everything about_ _**him** _ _was still beyond perfect._

 _He wondered if he could still reach_ _**him** _ _, if he was still allowed to touch_ _**him** _ _, to hug_ _**him** _ _, to kiss_ _**him** _ _… to love_ _**him** _ _._

 _After all, he was too perfect for_ _**him** _ _… more than before…_

 _**He** _ _was out of his grasps._

 _He doesn't want to taint_ _**him** _ _._

 _He doesn't want to dye_ _**him** _ _in his disgusting color._

 _He doesn't want to touch_ _**him** _ _with his filthy hands… with the hands that took the life of many._

 _**He** _ _was too perfect… for someone as broken as him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //crying
> 
> //screaming
> 
> //rolling in bed
> 
> Note: I believe you've noticed already, but the " **him** " I refer to varies. It depends on whose point of view the part was being told. (But I won't tell you who's who~) I hope you guys could connect the clues, because I won't be giving away the secrets anytime soon. :D
> 
> I'm warning you, shit's about to get real in the next chapters. For the meantime, let's just get intoxicated in our babies' small interactions. Just think of it like some sort of mental/emotional/physical preparation for the things that are about to happen. ;)
> 
> Also check out my other ongoing AkaKuro fic: **Missing Pieces**!


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and support you're giving in this fic, lovelies!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed. I also apologize for the ambiguity (of things) in this chapter.

Gold's eyes flashed in derisive mirth. "Kagami Taiga," he slurred. Despite the look on his face, his voice sounded bored. He swirled the snifter of whiskey he had poured when Kagami sat down earlier. "What brings you here?" He asked, gesturing his hand, offering Kagami a glass of his own.

Kagami raised a palm, refusing. He didn't come here for affable talks, anyway. The very thought of being friendly with the other was utterly insufferable that it almost made him puke. He fought his own impulse to glare at the golden-blonde-haired man casually seated with him in the semi-circular sofa. He needed to calm himself down or he would give away his real intentions. He hardened his expression. "The usual," he replied.

Gold stopped whirling his glass of whiskey. He placed it back on the table. The clattering sound instantly died as the booming music inside the establishment escalated even more. His gaze cut through Kagami's own. "What is it, then?"

Kagami curled and uncurled his fists on his lap, trying to arrange his thoughts.

Haizaki who had been standing on the sofa's end where Kagami was seated pretended not to notice the redhead's stiff action. He turned his gaze toward the dimmed dance floor where silhouettes upon silhouettes of inebriated patrons swayed.

Kagami cleared his throat. "It appears the agency has finally caught up with YD," he said. He inwardly sighed in relief for not biting his tongue or the insides of his cheeks.

Gold didn't even bat an eye, despite the fact.

The Agency is on their tail.

The Agency.

The damned agency whose name remained shrouded in mystery.

Their biggest opponent.

The Agency was a clandestine government organization meant for covert operations, for surreptitious affairs that have no need to reach the public's eyes and ears.

The Agency and their group had clashed countless times in the past. They were always at the losing end, except for that one time– that time four years ago, when they had succeeded in obtaining one of the greatest minds the world could ever offer. Though, it somewhat ended in failure, because of _them_ , because of the insolent monkeys who had the nerve to go against him– against them– against the Jabberwock.

Great minds really do think alike, but he– they– had the upper hand, at that time.

After all, love really could make people weak.

It was disgusting. Repulsive. Just like the Agency itself.

"They never learn," Gold hung his elbow on the sofa's backrest and shook his head. "Especially that rainbow trout and his little underling." He picked up his half-full snifter and breathed in the strong smell of his whiskey. He sent his gaze toward Haizaki, egging on the gray-haired man's reaction, who was obviously pretending not to hear their conversation. "What do you think? Shall we take the fish out of the water?" He asked, smirking.

Haizaki's face didn't move an inch.

Gold's lips curled up in amusement. He snorted. He returned his gaze to Kagami. "It seems to me that you're useful after all, despite being a cub."

If Gold meant the word "cub" literally (because of his name) or figuratively (because he was still new in all this underground jobs), Kagami has no idea. Still, the way he had just been referred to didn't sit well in his stomach. If he could, he would have already smashed the glass bottle straight into Gold's head. It was odd how he always had the urge to kill the man whenever he met him. After all, his brother raised him to be morally upright at all times.

His late brother. Despite not being blood-related, he had treated Kagami just like his own family.

Since the redhead's parents abandoned him when he was still a kid, his brother had always been the one to support him… them… their family of two.

But, he died. He took his own life. He was killed by the very organization Kagami was now part of.

And, all of this, everything Kagami was doing was for him– to avenge him. He will take down the Jabberwock with him… in his grave.

He doesn't care if he involved innocent people in his plans, even if they were his friends. Or even if it was the person he loves.

Love would only make him weak. He couldn't bother to back down now that he had made contact with the Jabberwock.

Gold took a sip, savoring the flavor of his organization's success– of definite success. He put back his glass on the table. "I have a new job for you," he said.

Kagami resisted the urge to curse or even show the slightest bit of reaction.

"I heard, you have your eyes on _him_?" Gold asked with an amused smirk.

Kagami's heart thumped loudly inside his chest, vibrating in his ears. His face slowly became as white as sheet at the mention of _him_ , but if Gold noticed or not he wasn't sure. It was dark, and despite their spot being on the well-lit corner of the establishment, it still wasn't enough to make up the faces around them.

"Well, what do you say I give you a chance to play with _them_?"

"'Them?'"

"Why, your little crush, of course, and his lover."

 _Lover? Don't tell me–_ Kagami, then, realized everything. Gold's plans had already been set in motion. He was already a step ahead of him. _This asshole._ Kagami clenched his jaw in contempt. The person before him wasn't human– he was a demon hiding beneath a human's skin.

Haizaki quietly clicked his tongue.

Kagami heard, but feigned that he didn't. Reluctantly, he nodded his head. He didn't raise his head back.

Gold chuckled.

The devious laughter drummed in Kagami's ears. And, the ear-splitting sound inside the club appeared to have been swallowed whole by Gold's voice which was weird.

"Well, don't worry. I didn't mean anything by it. Let's just say, things went a bit out of hand and, now, we have to put everything into action, or else–" Gold's gaze turned cold, in an instant. "Or else, everything will be for naught," he continued.

Kagami didn't reply, this time.

"Bring _him_ to me, Kagami Taiga."

A dreading feeling filled Kagami's chest. He wasn't born an actor, but he had already taken the play this long. He couldn't back down now.

 _Love will only make people weak._ He repeated inside his head as he curled up his fingers.

However, in the middle of the madness, his brother's voice resounded in the back of his mind, countering the thought.

" _Taiga, sometimes, love can make the weakest person strong."_

He inwardly disagreed, unyielding. _But, it can also make the strongest person weak, Tatsuya._ He told himself.

Kagami had long since abandoned the foolishness called humanity.

* * *

_Every single day felt bleak. Empty. Dreary. Hopeless._

_He spent the days like a lifeless doll– moving but without direction._

_He had lost his life's compass. He had lost his reason to live. He had lost_ _**him** _ _… his life, his everything._

_He could still remember the devastated look on_ _**his** _ _face._

_He still dreamed about it… about_ _**him** _ _, every night. He wanted to call it a nightmare, but it was the only thing that kept his sanity intact._

_**Him** _ _._

_Ironic._

_Laughable. After all, unquestionably, he was the one to blame._

_It was his fault._

_He was a coward. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to protect_ _**him** _ _. He feared for_ _**his** _ _life, for the dangers that his choices would cause_ _**him** _ _._

_Was he wrong for making such a one-sided decision?_

_He was._

_He would always imagine the feel of_ _**his** _ _touch, every time he held the cold grip of his gun._

_He would always imagine the warmth of_ _**his** _ _lips, every time he was about to pull the trigger._

_He would always imagine the mellow sound of_ _**his** _ _voice, every time he fired a shot._

_He was a coward that could only do one thing._

_To run._

_He ran away._

_Away from_ _**him** _ _._

_Away from the only person he had ever loved._

* * *

Akashi and Kuroko had already separated from each other, but the warmth still lingered on their lips.

Their kiss…

It was truly intoxicating, that the both of them were still in a state of daze.

Kuroko's head remained hanging low. His eyes were glazed over. He traced his lower lip once, from left to right, with his index and middle finger. It was odd how he felt a sense of familiarity every time the redhead touched him. An unknown feeling surged inside his chest, an unknown sensation coursed through his head.

Akashi was sitting on the side of the bed. His heart has been thrumming loudly, since his lips left Kuroko's.

Not enough. It wasn't enough. He wanted more. He needed more.

But, not now.

His vision clouded for a brief moment. The splitting throbbing of his head had already returned. He knew he only has a few more minutes left. He smirked to himself. _Can't wait any longer to see him again, can you?_ He inwardly asked himself.

"Ogino-kun?" Kuroko appeared to have noticed the way Akashi has been staring off into space. The bluenette seemed to have finally emerged back to reality.

Akashi smiled. It was as if he had already gotten used to his false name, that he didn't even bother correcting the way Kuroko addressed him. "It's nothing, Tetsuya," he answered.

Another few minutes of silence passed, before Kuroko decided that it was more than enough of time to clear their minds and organize their thoughts.

Kuroko tightly clenched the blanket, the soft fabric brushing against his fingertips but not enough to bruise his palms. He gulped once. "What… would you like to know?" He asked, his face returning to its usual calm. Though, his eyes were still a bit puffy and reddish.

Akashi wanted to tell Kuroko how bold he was with his question, but chose not to. "I believe, you know about the drug," he simply replied.

An inexplicable expression crossed Kuroko's face. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. He couldn't find the right words to answer.

Akashi waited patiently. He didn't want to push Kuroko to a corner and severe the thin string he had finally succeeded to tie in the bluenette.

"Yellow Diamond," Kuroko began, "I think, Ogino-kun already knows its name." A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He knew that the redhead was trying not to be insensitive about the matter.

Akashi folded his arms to his chest and sighed. He nodded once, his eyes and ears intent on hearing everything.

Kuroko continued. "Ogino-kun, have you heard of the organization called the Jabberwock?"

Akashi's eyes narrowed. _As I have thought. It was them again. It was him again._ "Yes," he replied. _How can I not know about them… those vile creatures?_ "The Jabberwork is an underground organization who has the big hand in all the dealings in the black market, isn't it? They are the prime mover– the main bar controlling the strings of the marionette, the black market, I must say. It appears that years ago they were only a small organization, but, since the current head took the position, the organization rose to the top."

"That's correct." Kuroko rubbed his thumb on the soft sheets covering his legs. "Ogino-kun, do you remember the incident which caused a huge uproar four years ago?"

Akashi felt his heart stuck itself in his throat. _Four years ago? Does he mean… Does he remember?_ He swallowed thickly. "What… incident?" He inwardly commended himself for not stuttering.

"Well, I also don't exactly remember it, but… a friend told me about the mass suicides that happened all over Japan, particularly in Tokyo," Kuroko said, a hint of sadness visible on his face.

Akashi felt himself sigh both in disappointment and relief. Disappointment, because Kuroko obviously doesn't remember him– or them. Relief, because he has no idea how he would explain everything to the bluenette, if the latter did remember. _The friend that he mentioned must be Ogiwara Shigehiro._ He presumed and, this time, he felt envious of the dead man.

"Ogino-kun?" Kuroko called out as Akashi didn't reply.

"Yes. I do remember," Akashi said.

Kuroko stared at Akashi for a moment, before continuing. He has no idea when the redhead became a police, but, from the looks of it, Ogino has been one even before the incident. "Well, how about this? Does Ogino-kun think that the victims really did commit suicide?"

Akashi inaudibly gasped, his fiery gaze meeting Kuroko's frosty once. "What do you mean?"

Kuroko nibbled on his lower lip. "Ogino-kun, do you know what YD can do to a person?" He asked.

A horrible sense of anticipation welled up inside of Akashi's chest. He knew. He definitely knew the answer, but, from the way Kuroko just asked him, it appeared as if he actually had no idea about it. "It can… induce hallucination just like ecstasy. Distorted perception of one's surrounding and time and, sometimes, high levels of pleasure and desire from physical contact, increased levels of sexual arousal, and increased energy levels," Akashi answered.

Kuroko nodded. "Correct again." Then, he shook his head. "But, wrong at the same time."

Akashi's eyes twitched. _Wrong?_ He hated the word. "And why is that?"

Kuroko noticed the slight look of displeasure on Akashi's face. He inwardly smiled. "The form of hallucination a YD user experiences isn't only limited to visual hallucinations. Visual, auditory, gustatory, olfactory, and tactile– YD affects all the human senses, creating a solid illusion, deception. In the end, it causes perceptual anomalies," Kuroko said. "My friend– I think, you already know him– Ogiwara-kun told me that when he first… took the drug it felt like, in his own words, his head was being pierced by thousands of needles. I'm not sure about this. He also said that the pain only lasted for a few minutes or so. Then, he told me how he saw an angel in the form of the person he loves… or loved." There was bitterness in the way Kuroko said the last few words as he reminisced.

"An angel?" Akashi asked.

Kuroko nodded. "He didn't elaborate about that. Personally, I think, he was exaggerating when he told me that," he smiled sadly. "But…"

"But?"

"But, he once told me that he had always wanted to be with that person… but he couldn't."

"Why?"

It took a few seconds for Kuroko to reply. "Because… Because he said that person already has someone in their heart… and that he has no place in that person's heart."

Akashi knew since the very beginning who the person Ogiwara had talked about. If Kuroko already had an idea, he wasn't sure.

Kuroko continued. "If I may add, if Ogino-kun still remembers about the neuroanatomy of memory, the brain structures responsible for processing the human memory– the hippocampus and the amygdalae, for example– are stimulated to create a hallucination of an actual memory."

"An actual memory?"

"Yes, but, since it was induced by YD, a narcotic, the hallucinations are weaved in the way the user want it to be."

"So, the tragic memories become happy ones?"

Kuroko was honestly surprised at how Akashi could instantly follow all the information. "Yes. Or the happy memories become happier ones," he added.

"And, how does this relate to the mass suicide incident four years ago?"

"Ogino-kun, if you're happy enough with your life, what do you call the specific emotion that you feel?" Kuroko held his chin with his thumb and index finger. "For example, if a kid receives a toy as a gift from their parents, what do they feel?" Kuroko asked.

"Satisfaction," Akashi answered.

"Correct." Kuroko looked at Akashi. "Then, if the person finally achieved their dreams or their wishes, what do they feel?"

"Fulfillment."

"Yes." Kuroko was relieved at Akashi's adeptness in figuring things out. It took him only a short while to tell him everything. "What do you think happens after that, Ogino-kun?"

"Dreams don't end when you've achieved them. Of course, it's only normal for a person to generate a new goal," Akashi said without a hint of hesitation. "Something that's even harder to achieve than before."

Kuroko gaped at the redhead's reply.

Akashi blinked. "Did I say the wrong thing?"

Kuroko smiled. Then, he shook his head. He dropped his gaze to his hands. "If only… If only everyone thinks the same way as you do, Ogino-kun. But, not everyone is as… strong as you." There was sadness in his voice. It was as if the words were meant for himself.

Akashi wanted to wrap his arms around the bluenette and comfort him. He couldn't. He waited for Kuroko to continue.

"In the end, humans are still fragile and simple-minded beings, Ogino-kun. They only see the good in things. People remain ignorant, denying all the bad things. If they're able to refuse it, they will. They pretend, they wear a façade, as long as they can be happy," Kuroko's voice trembled. He lifted his head and looked straight ahead. "In the end, YD creates a false hope within the haze called living. Just like diamonds… or hope under the intense, bright lights… the semblance of life. Amid all the gratification and suffering, don't you think it's only a logical reason for them to indulge themselves in the good things, and only the good things?"

It was kind of contrary to Kuroko's own choice. After all, he had chosen to end things not to continue to fool his own self and let the organization use him. He still couldn't believe he had just made that choice.

"I apologize if my explanation's ambiguous," Kuroko self-consciously turned his gaze sideways, on the direction opposite to Akashi.

To be honest, it was still quite unclear, but Akashi was able to grasp most of it. He sighed, cutting through the tense atmosphere. "No. I somehow understand the implications," Akashi's lips curled up to a smile. "Anyway, I'm rather amused that you're able to provide such a practical explanation of everything."

Of course, he could. After all, he knew. He knew everything about Yellow Diamond. Kuroko gritted his teeth, unsure of how he should reply. "The rest… Can I tell you the rest tomorrow?" Kuroko requested as he rubbed a hand on his arm. He needed some time to gather his thoughts and prepare himself, if he was going to tell the redhead about how he was involved in this... in everything.

"I apologize if I had put you under pressure because of my words. Do know that I didn't mean any harm by it."

"No, you didn't," Kuroko lied. "I just…"

Akashi placed his palm on top of Kuroko's hand, the gesture reassuring. He spoke. "For now, thank you for trusting me and for telling me all of this, Tetsuya. I'm honestly–" However, he wasn't able to finish his sentence as he felt the familiar sting in his head shoot up. The pain almost made him keel over. He swayed sideways.

"Ogino-kun!" Kuroko immediately caught Akashi as he fell in his arms, his expression a mix of puzzle and worry.

"Sorry… My time's up," Akashi muttered, forcing a smile. Though, his face was visible with pain.

"H-Huh? W-What do you mean?" Panic rose in Kuroko's chest. He doesn't know what he should do. The redhead appeared to be in great pain, but all he could do and was able to do was hold him in his arms.

Does he have some kind of illness? Is he sick? What about his medication? These are all the questions that ran inside Kuroko's head. The same thing happened earlier, but, now, the situation was different.

"M-Medicine…" Kuroko muttered, darting his eyes inside Akashi's room to look for some sort of medicine cabinet, but he found nothing.

Beads of sweat had begun to form on Akashi's forehead. His breathing was now labored, shallow and strained.

"Ogino-kun!" Kuroko cried once more.

Akashi weakly laughed. _He still hasn't changed…_ He thought. He reached for Kuroko's shirt, grabbing the part covering the bluenette's trapezius. "Don't… worry… It'll pass… soon…"

Kuroko frowned, confused. "Ogino–" A cold sensation pressed on his cheeks. Akashi was touching him, the redhead's thumb caressing his skin. Cold. It only caused his heart to lurch in alarm and concern.

Akashi raised his head and locked his gaze with Kuroko's. The pain gradually began to subside. He wanted to spend more time with the bluenette, but Kuroko wasn't just his. He was glad he was able to talk to him, after so long. Now, it was _his_ turn. He was now able to properly speak, but his words still came out in small gasps. "That's right… I almost forgot," he tiredly chuckled.

"What is it?" Kuroko asked. He listened. His face looked as if he was about to cry.

 _Still the worrywart, aren't you?_ Akashi's lips curled up as a feeling of attachment wrenched in his chest. "My name… It's Akashi Seijuurou…" he said, his eyelids slowly fluttering close. "Don't… you dare… forget it… again… Tetsuya..."

 _Again?_ Kuroko blinked, confused. He thought something was weird about Akashi's words, but he just brushed it off. Right now, he has more important things to be concerned about. He pressed Akashi closer to his chest. He nodded. "I won't," he answered.

The small movement and Kuroko's tight embrace were the last things the redhead felt.

Akashi closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck. I'm so sorry I suck at explaining things. _*hides in a cave*_
> 
> Okay, we did study about the brain processes in high school, but I honestly couldn't remember them. Because that was, like, 6 or 7 years ago? Let's just say that YD creates a hallucination from an actual memory and adds its own version (something the YD users would like to happen to them), making them forget about the bad things. Then, it creates a false sense of happiness. The rest… I'll explain in the next chapters.
> 
> I have another plot bunny for a new AkaKuro fic, but I can't begin to write it because life keeps getting in the way. ,em>*sobs*
> 
>  **Next time:** It's finally Oreshi's turn!
> 
> P.S. Fuck you, Gold. I hope you drown in boiling lava. –with hate, **A**.


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the hits, reads, kudos, and bookmarks! ♥
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei owns it. The only thing I own is this story.
> 
>  **Warning:** Grammatical errors, limited vocabulary, unbetaed. :3 I'm trying to limit my ambiguousness, but… orz

The heavens were weeping the next day as if in great sympathy and remembrance of the lives that were lost exactly four years ago. It was the very same day when everything began turning.

The unexplained suicide incidents all over the country had caused a huge conundrum to the authorities, and, of course, to the public. It was believed that a drug was on play. At that time, when the separate episodes began, nobody was able to explain how it was possible.

There were no specific connections among the casualties. Most were even successful in their lives and were barely met with any forms of mental and emotional distress. It was unconvincing for them to resort to using illegal drugs.

Some presented the idea of an underground cult involved, but it was soon brought down because of the fact that some of the victims were dedicated to their respective social and religious bearings.

Nijimura contemplated, watching the light drizzle outside his office window as he sat on the swivel chair. His posture was laidback, but his expression was severe as he now pondered over the recent events.

As far as the reports listed, the deaths caused by Yellow Diamond were inflicted by the very victims themselves, except for Hanamiya Makoto who died because of a bullet wound.

It reminded him of the mass suicides. It was as if history was repeating itself once more.

He bored his gaze outside, distantly watching the small droplets of rain. _The tears of the victims_ , he thought.

The clouds were grayish, turning dark, despite the hour being only half the clock past 10 AM. The air was also cold and humid, because of the bad weather. It was as if the temporary calm before an impending storm.

The smell of freshly-brewed coffee filled his nostrils, but it didn't bring about the tranquility it usually served him. Contrary, it only supplied his mind with more unwelcomed ideas regarding the case.

To think, that Mayuzumi Chihiro almost became a casualty.

It was a huge miscalculation to involve the abrasive coroner. Mayuzumi wasn't even aware of the Agency, as far as he knew.

He still couldn't stomach the fact.

Never would he.

Ever since that day when Akashi lost someone important– lost a part of him– because of him, he had pledged to himself never to repeat the same mistake in his lifetime.

He had failed once more.

Almost.

It was reassuring to know that Mayuzumi was now safe, but his other agents? He wasn't sure. No. He was sure they weren't. Someone lurking behind the shadows was testing them… playing with them… toying with the Agency.

Nijimura has no idea who it was. He trusted every single one of his officers, most especially those he handpicked himself.

Yes, he had been betrayed once, but it was a long time ago. Before he even became who he was now. He had learned.

Or had he?

He knew that betrayal was a common thing in his field of work, but for someone to have the guts to even attempt it with _the_ Nijimura so close was truly an appalling thought. Hard to swallow.

As it seemed now, someone appeared to be challenging his wits. Maybe, someone was driving them into a corner? But, the question was why?

Nijimura heaved an exasperated sigh. He drummed his index finger on his desk, trying to pursue his line of thought. "Fuck," he quietly cursed. He was going nowhere.

The only hope he has was Mayuzumi. Mayuzumi should know what happened to him. If he didn't, then he has no idea where he should start.

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door of his office.

 _Speak of the devil._ His lips atypically curved into a smile. "Come in," he replied, swiveling his chair to face the door's direction.

The person entered.

"Glad to know that you're doing well," Nijimura greeted.

"'Glad to know you're doing well,' my ass," Mayuzumi answered, with something of a deep scowl evident on his face. "I'm wholeheartedly against meeting you after everyone at the hospital accepted your claim that we're relatives."

Nijimura could swear he heard Mayuzumi mumble "How contemptible" under his breath. He just brushed it off, and returned the expression with a smug smile. "You ass. Well, it must've meant that we're pretty alike, don't you think?" He teased.

"Oh god, Nijimura, listen to yourself." Mayuzumi stepped back once with a displeased expression. "Just so you know, that green-haired doctor, Midori-whatever-his-name-was, was against me leaving the hospital, but, because you requested that I appear before you as soon as possible, here I am!" He waved his arms as if presenting himself before Nijimura. "And–" He raised a knowing finger. "–before you even suggest that I missed your disgusting self… Bloody fucking hell, I didn't. I'd rather spend my important time back there than see your face, to be honest."

Nijimura's eye twitched at Mayuzumi's pejorative words. He laced his fingers together, his elbows propped on the table, and rested his chin on the back of his hands. "Still sharp-tongued, eh? I thought your almost-death experience would teach you a lesson. As I see it now, it didn't."

Mayuzumi shivered. He rubbed a palm on his arm as he recalled what happened and brought down his gaze with a silent "Tch."

Nijimura noticed how he had made Mayuzumi uncomfortable and instantly regretted it. "I apologize for being tactless," he said.

"No, not your fault," Mayuzumi replied. He sighed and returned to his usual stance. "Anyway, what is it that you need me for?"

Nijimura leaned his back in his chair. "Obviously, I want you to tell me what happened."

Mayuzumi stared at the raven-haired superintendent for a short while, before answering. "I… had no idea."

"What?" Nijimura uncharacteristically blinked. There went his hopes down the drain. "What do you mean?"

"Everything happened so fast!" Mayuzumi raised his voice in annoyance. He hated it whenever someone pressed him for answers he has no idea know how to give. "Well, as far as I remember, while I was still… coherent, I was drinking coffee with Imayoshi. Then, a delivery guy came who brought me a small parcel. He left, soon after that, and I returned to my table to continue my work."

"Delivery guy?" Nijimura queried.

"Yeah?" Mayuzumi unsurely replied.

"How does he look?"

Mayuzumi shrugged as he nonchalantly answered. "Tall, short blonde hair, dark eyes, has a snaggletooth. Anyway, I don't think he's involved in this, whatsoever."

"And why is that?"

"Well, we did come in direct contact with each other, but the only things he was holding was a pen and a clipboard."

"What made you think he wasn't keeping the drug in those items? The pen could've had a secret compartment or something."

"Because it was a fucking normal pen that you can buy anywhere," Mayuzumi slowly answered as if pronouncing each word like a sentence.

"Still, we can't be so sure. It could be a nifty bit of… sleight of hand, at the very least."

"Believe what you believe, but I'm telling you, I don't think that guy has something to do with this." Mayuzumi shook his head and folded his arms to his chest. "I don't know. I'm just… I feel as if something's wrong, but I can't point out which. We might've mistakenly overlooked something." He furrowed his eyebrows, dwelling on the strange feeling in his chest.

Nijimura noted Mayuzumi's use of the word "we." Mayuzumi wasn't one to cooperate, he knew. The guy must be learning its importance now. He slightly smiled to himself, before returning to the matter at hand. "Do you have anyone in mind who could have done it?"

"If I have, then I should've told you already," Mayuzumi replied, irritated at the fact.

 _So, it's another dead end, huh?_ Nijimura sighed. "Anyway, I'm pulling you out of the Yellow Diamonds case. It might be better to give the examinations related to this to Imayoshi."

Mayuzumi's face contorted to that of pure disbelief. "And why the fuck is that!?"

"Obviously, because you've become a target for the ones responsible. The thing given to you was the very damn narcotic, Mayuzumi," Nijimura replied.

Mayuzumi barely gasped, but was completely astounded. However, his undaunted reply only surprised Nijimura more. "No, you aren't pulling me out of this stupid thing. You must be fucking kidding me! I'm not stepping down from this, Nijimura. I have become a victim already. I can't let the same thing happen to someone else," he said, the last sentence he added quietly.

Nijimura raised an eyebrow. He narrowed his eyes at the gray-haired coroner. "Aren't you being too personal? It's uncharacteristic of you."

"I may be, but it was their fucking fault for showing me that… that…" Mayuzumi didn't finish.

Nijimura waited.

Mayuzumi bit his lip. "Nothing," he gasped out. "Anyway, you're not pulling me out of this, you hear me? You have involved me enough already, you ass. You fucking owe me for ruining my vacation, so, yeah. Just think about it as a fucking payback." Mayuzumi strode out of the room. Before he was completely outside, he hastily turned back and said in a loud voice. "Before I forget, shall I enlighten you about something? YD is in solid form. I couldn't have failed to notice if the guy spiked my drink!" He closed the door with a loud bang, shocking the other officers outside of Nijimura's office.

Nijimura scratched his head. "Hierarchy, my ass. Aren't I being treated as a slave here?" He returned to appraising the scenery outside. It was nothing special, but he found calm in watching the city in its peaceful state.

The drizzle has finally stopped. However, the clouds retained its murky, foreboding color.

* * *

_._

_._

_._

… _i-kun…_

… _shi-kun?_

_Akashi-kun!_

Akashi jolted awake, cold sweat dripping from his forehead, sliding past his jaw and down to his exposed neck. He looked around and noticed that he was in his room, on his bed.

 _How on earth did I get here?_ He asked himself.

He remembered eating with Kuroko downstairs. After that, he could also vaguely recall revealing to Kuroko his real identity. He even showed him his police badge.

Then, what?

What happened after that?

He held his forehead, closed his eyes, and tried to concentrate his thoughts. He forced himself to try to remember, but to no avail. There was nothing but a blank space in his memory. Nothing.

In the middle of his efforts, the sudden knocking on the door broke him out of his deep thoughts. He didn't get the chance to reply as the person was already opening the door.

Akashi saw a familiar fluff of sky blue materialize. Some of the light-colored strands of hair were sticking on the person's sweaty forehead. "Kuroko?" He quietly muttered at the sight of the bluenette entering his room.

Kuroko blinked at the mention of his name. He brought his gaze toward Akashi's direction. His face lightened up a bit, after noticing that Akashi has regained consciousness. "You're finally awake," he said. Holding a basin half-filled with water and with a small towel hanging on its side on his palms, he closed the door with a push of his back. He approached Akashi and placed the basin down the empty nightstand. "How are you feeling?"

"'How am I feeling?'" Akashi echoed. "Fine, I guess?" He unsurely replied, plain confusion clearly written on his face.

"You just suddenly lost consciousness. I had no idea what to do," Kuroko said. "I apologize for tinkering with your bathroom without your permission." He glanced at the basin he was carrying earlier.

"No, it's fine. Thank you for… concerning yourself with a stranger like me." Akashi gave the bluenette a small smile.

Kuroko shook his head. "Hardly. Well, Akashi-san did promise that he'll help me, so…" he trailed, awkwardly looking at anywhere but Akashi's face.

Akashi wondered about Kuroko's reply. _Help?_ He asked himself. Well, yes it was his intention, but he didn't remember offering Kuroko his help yet. _Don't tell me…_ "Kuroko, have I done something weird?"

Kuroko stiffened, remembering how Akashi's lips felt against his... how Akashi's skin felt against his fingertips.

_Soft. Tender. Warm._

Slowly, a dust of pink crept up the bluenette's cheeks. "N-No, Akashi-san didn't do anything weird at all. If anything, it was I who did something… and I would like to apologize…" He mumbled his next words. "…for suddenly kissing you."

"Kiss?" Akashi said, slightly baffled. He felt as if he remembered something like that happening, but he couldn't completely recall.

He couldn't recall.

It had been a while, since something very similar to this happened, after all.

_Have I…?_

"Akashi-san?" Kuroko called.

"Oh, I'm sorry for spacing out like that," Akashi replied.

Kuroko stared at Akashi for a moment. He quirked an eyebrow, ever so slightly. "You seem different than before."

Akashi swallowed, the loud pounding of his heart beginning to resound inside his ears. Unconsciously, his eyes were drawn unto Kuroko's lips as the bluenette continued.

"Are you…" Kuroko's words were interrupted as Akashi spoke.

"Kuroko," Akashi said. "I... What else have you noticed different about me?"

"Different?" Kuroko blinked at Akashi's question. He studied the redhead. He noted the other's unyielding eyes. Unsure how to reply, then, suddenly, it came to him. Why didn't he notice? He had been feeling weird, ever since he entered the room, but now he knew why. "Well… for one, your left iris isn't the luscious gold it was earlier but… red," he said, touching the skin below his own left eye as if to indicate.

Akashi visibly tensed at this. Before he could even reply, Kuroko beat him to it.

"I'm so sorry for asking, but… You… Which are you?" Kuroko asked, tilting his head.

" _Which?"_ Akashi's eyes widened.

Kuroko stared, waiting for an answer, but what Akashi did next caught him off guard.

Akashi curled up as he sat. He was trying to hold his laughter, but was failing to do so.

Kuroko flushed in embarrassment, realizing that he might've just asked such an absurd question. He tried to form a response, but couldn't with his mind in a complete mess.

After a while, Akashi's laughter turned into stifled giggles. He wiped a tear on the corner of his eye using his index finger, and, finally, he replied. "To think, that you would ask me that in such a straightforward manner. You never cease to amaze me, Kuroko."

"I…I'm so sorry…" Kuroko self-consciously mumbled.

"Anyway–" Akashi patted the empty space on his bed. "–won't you sit down with me?"

Kuroko hesitantly obliged, fidgeting awkwardly after his embarrassing display. "I'm… quite sure, though, that you're not the Akashi-san I talked with earlier," he said with a frown, but, to Akashi, it was as if the bluenette was trying to cover up his slip of the tongue.

"Well, to answer your question, yes. I believe, it wasn't me you had conversed with," Akashi said, smiling. "Does it fear you? I?"

Kuroko raised his head, meeting Akashi's gaze. He returned the smile, a shy dust of pink still decorating his cheeks. Slowly shaking his head, he replied, "No. Why should I?"

Akashi could honestly swear that he was about to get lost in Kuroko's sky blue eyes for a second as he fixed his stare in those beautiful jewels. "You're… weird."

"Akashi-san is weirder," Kuroko simply replied.

Akashi continued peering at Kuroko's eyes. It was as if he had known those eyes from long ago. Unconsciously, his mouth willed to ask. "I… I couldn't shake the feeling, but… Have we…" He frowned, anxious why he was asking. "Have we met before?"

"…Are you throwing me a pick-up line, Akashi-san?" Kuroko asked, his face unperplexed.

Akashi blinked in realization, but wasn't able to hide his intent. "No. I'm serious."

"As far as I could recall, we haven't, Akashi-san," Kuroko answered. "The first time we met, I believe, was a few nights ago. However…" He trailed, remembering the other Akashi's words from earlier.

" _My name is Akashi Seijuurou. Don't you dare forget it again, Tetsuya."_

"However?" Akashi repeated.

"No. It's nothing," Kuroko said.

Akashi raised an eyebrow, but didn't press the topic further. The bluenette appeared to be also confused, and it would be rather insensitive of him to pry. "Anyway, won't you drop the formalities? I appear to be older than you when you refer to me like that." Akashi's lips curled up into a smile. "I'm barely even in my thirties," he jokingly added.

"It would be impolite of me to do so. Would you mind if I just call you 'Akashi-kun,' then?" Kuroko replied. "And, you can address me whichever, Akashi-kun."

"Not at all," Akashi said, flashing another smile. "I'll just settle with 'Kuroko,' for now. I believe the other me must've addressed you in such an informal way in the get-go." Akashi chuckled. "Your first name, perhaps? I apologize in his behalf for being too discourteous."

"Don't worry. It wasn't a problem at all. After all, people have been addressing me in the same way," Kuroko replied.

Akashi immediately realized what Kuroko meant. "Pardon my own thoughtlessness, Kuroko." He slightly bowed his head.

Kuroko waved his hands in front of him, refusing the genteel gesture. "Not at all, Akashi-kun. I'm so sorry for mentioning it. Please, raise your head."

Akashi smiled. "If you say so." He huffed. "Shall we start over properly?"

Kuroko nodded.

Akashi offered his hand. "I'm Akashi Seijuurou. It's a pleasure to meet you, Kuroko."

Kuroko reached for the redhead's hand and gently shook it. "Likewise, Akashi-kun. And, though, I believe you obviously already know my name, I'm Kuroko Tetsuya." He said with the tiniest upward lift of his lips.

"Well, it would be much better if we had met each other in a different situation. Still and all, I look forward to working with you." Akashi scratched his cheek with an index finger.

"Yes. So do I," Kuroko answered.

Akashi pleasantly chuckled. "Don't you think it's only appropriate that we acquaint ourselves more with each other, if we are to work together in the future?" he asked. He wasn't one to involve someone in his own confidentialities, but Kuroko seemed to be different from others. He felt an odd affinity with the bluenette. It was as if he had been connected to him, since long ago.

"I did tell you–" Kuroko corrected himself, "–your other self– about me, though, already?"

"I meant, personal connections, Kuroko. I trust you with all of me, and _he_ trusts you with all of _his_ as you do trust _him_. I, however?" Akashi shook his head. "I don't think you're comfortable with me yet."

Kuroko understood what Akashi was implying.

Akashi softly hummed as if deciding on something. "Before anything else… What do you say I humor you with _our_ story, in exchange of yours, Kuroko?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oreshi knows about Bokushi, but he doesn't share Bokushi's consciousness. Bokushi, however, is aware of everything Oreshi does.
> 
> It feels as if the words Oreshi uses are too subdued and gentlemanly. Hahahaha XD
> 
> I apologize for this late chapter. T-T The oral defense for our thesis is slowly approaching, and it's honestly pressuring and stressing me out, both mentally, emotionally, and physically! I'm DYING sEnd hElP- _*sobs messily*_
> 
> I might not be able to update during that period. orz
> 
> My next update (I'm planning) is the next chapter for **Missing Pieces.** I realized that it has been a while, since I updated it! I'm so sorryyy… #TooCaughtUpWithLife


	18. NOT A CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.

Hello, lovelies!

I don’t know how to begin this, but first of all, I’d like to apologize that this isn’t an update for a new chapter. These past months, I decided to focus more on my studies. And fortunately last March 31, I had finally graduated from the hell called university! The sad news was that, halfway during my second semester, my old laptop gave up. ALL of my files from 3rd year to 5th year in college were there (including all the fics and stories I’d been writing). I learned tonight from my dad that I wouldn’t be able to recover them anymore. I managed to salvage some of my drafts (which I had saved in my flash drive), but it was only up to Chapter 7 of Missing Pieces, all the one-shots I’d written, and none for Yellow Diamonds. I feel so terrible right now because I lost most chapters of YD, including the last chapter and the epilogue. I decided to just rewrite the first few chapters before posting new updates, so I could get to the flow of the story again. I really wanna spend time angst-ing about my life right now, but I believe it was much better to take my mind off things by rewriting this. 

Most of all, thank you for supporting this fic. I’ll post the edited chapters later. Hopefully, by next week (or the week after that), I’d be able to get my stride back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be doing this fic first before **Missing Pieces** , because the files I lost for that fic hurt me more.
> 
> (I'll just put a "✔" at the end of the chapter titles; it means I'm done rewriting that chapter. ^^)


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